


Only the Beginning

by 4getfulimaginator



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Alternate Universe - No Curse, Alternate Universe - Shipwrecked, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Castaway scenario, Desert Island Fic, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Gratuitous Smut, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Lieutenant Duckling, Lieutenant Killian Jones, Loss of Virginity, Princess Emma, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Romantic Friendship, Sexy Times, Shameless Smut, Treasure Island setting, Young Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Young Emma Swan, deserted island, sexual awakening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-02-21 11:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 45,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2466587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4getfulimaginator/pseuds/4getfulimaginator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Lieutenant Duckling castaway!AU.</b> </p><p>When Princess Emma and Lieutenant Killian Jones are shipwrecked on an island that forces you to confront your greatest temptations and deepest desires, the sparks that have always existed between the two are sure to come to an unbridled head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I - Where There's Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. 
> 
> A/N: Many thanks to my awesome and amazing beta, **believing-in-words** (Tumblr), for being the best supporter and helping hand I could ever ask for!

She couldn't fricking believe this. Damn, damn,  _damn_.

Fuming inside, Emma huffed as she fought to reach the shoreline, the trails of the stupid dress she had on not making it any easier to evade the waves that kept pushing her back into the ocean.

She was soaking wet, she was cold, and she was stranded. All in all, she was pissed off, good and proper.

The moment she reached sand beyond the line of the incoming tide, she plopped down on the ground and refused to move. That didn't stop her from opening one eye when she heard a distinct masculine voice curse very loudly. Repeatedly. Boy, did he  _really_  have a sailor's mouth.

Currently, Lieutenant Killian Jones was sporting thoroughly doused hair, dripping clothes, and the most frustrated expression she had ever seen on his face. He was nearly kicking at the water by the time he had reached her side, muttering angrily to himself and swearing colorfully when his soaked boots squelched. It was incredibly unfair ― though everything about this situation was unfair to begin with ― that he still could manage to look very handsome, in a windswept way.

"Bloody bugger it all!" he hissed, throwing his scabbard down and aiming the toe of his boot at the hilt. It went flying some twenty feet away.

Okay, maybe not so attractive.

Emma grinned despite herself when she realized that as of right now, the very prim naval officer, who usually was a right prude with the most immature attitude, most closely resembled a drowned rat.  One very cranky, annoyed rat.

Well, she probably looked about the same, with her torn gown and disheveled state.

Bracing herself, she decided to ask the question ―  _it was a safe guess_  ― he would not like to hear. "So...what do we do now? Do you know where we are?"

He groaned when she also saw that his spyglass, sextant, and compass were certainly not in his satchel. "I don't bloody know, Princess."

"But you're the soldier here, the naturalist. Surely you can signal for help, find some way to get us out of―"

"Damn it to hell, can't you bleeding understand that I don't know?" He dug deeper into his satchel, searching his pockets frantically next and then grasping at his water canteen. Whatever conclusion he had drawn from all three efforts must have been negative, for he was flushing crimson from fury, his normally polite demeanor gone.

When she tried to continue her directive, he snapped vehemently at her, "If you're so smart, lass, why don't you get us off this damn island and back to the  _Jewel of the Realm_? Because the only thing I see you doing, time and time again, is sitting on your arse, waiting for others to take the lead first!"

Her mouth must have opened of its own accord at his flaming retort, because she was fully conscious of closing it. Then, as his words sunk in, she began to see red. How  _dare_  he― "Killian Jones," she said shakily after a second's pause, "you are a rude, mean, ungrateful  _ass ―_ blaming me when none of this is my fault ― and, not to mention―"

"Bloody damnation!" he spat out at her, his jaw clenched and his teeth gritted. "You're a spoiled brat of a  _princess_  who's never had to fend for herself her whole life, always pampered behind stone walls and with servants at her beck and call!" he returned, clearly not over his misguided rage. "So don't you bloody dare tell me what I am, Your mighty Highness ― have a look in a damn mirror first―"

It only made Emma more determined to have the last word in their banter.

Or, in this case, the last gesture.

Without thinking twice about her emotionally induced instinct, Emma raised her hand and slapped him hard, his head snapping to the side from the impact. Hefting herself to her feet, despite that they hurt dreadfully and she wanted to sink back down into the ground, she stomped away in as dignified a manner as she could muster, leaving a fuming Jones behind her.

The jungle looked thick, untamed, formidable, and oppressive. Should she really be taking a chance like this and turning her back on her only companion because her pride was hurt?

Emma sighed, thinking her options through. She knew how to survive in the wild, thanks to guidance from both her mother and father, but that didn't mean it was a good idea to ignore the lieutenant and take off on her own.

They were friends once ― still were, by all accounts ― so maybe she should give him another chance...

"Oi, if you faint from the heat in there, darling, remember not to call out for me! You know why? 'Cause I'll be out here, waiting for the bloody ship to come by so they can see where I am and rescue me ― like a sane person would do!" came his ill-tempered shouts, the vehement dislike in his cross tone hitting her ears harshly.

_Not a chance in hell._

Growling, she only looked back once, making her decision. Swinging the sword she'd salvaged over her shoulder and onto her back, Emma took one step forward and then another, ready to confront the wildlife within. Heck, it was better than expecting the clueless sailor on the beach to come up with another remedy besides waiting.

He wasn't yelling after her anymore. No more swearing or lecturing or shadowing her back. He probably couldn't care less about her. And broiling inwardly, she felt the same about him. Or so she wanted to believe, because a pang of hurt was throbbing somewhere within her as she disappeared into the undergrowth and he was finally out of sight.

But her parting thought, before she withdrew the sword from its sheath and began to cut a path through the hanging vines, was concerning her would-be savior. She paused only long enough to wonder how it would take him to realize that his blade was missing.

Shaking that misgiving away, Emma went farther and farther in across unknown territory, heedless of the distant cries of the man officially responsible for her safety.


	2. Part II - Glorious Fever

_You're my wildfire every single night,_

_We are alive,_

_And the stars make love to the universe,_

_And you touch me..._

"Empire" by Shakira

* * *

Most people were so bereft of common sense that they needed witty lines and truisms to remind them of what was right before their very eyes. And one pair of eyes she knew all too well, stormy and turbid when angered or wronged, lucent and bright when engaged in his duties or surrounded by the people he loved.

Well, for Killian Jones, it was one person: Captain Liam Jones. In spite of their visible difference in age, their different temperaments, and the fact that they were brothers, both men always acted like best friends, guarding each other's backs and caring for each other's hearts.

Their familial bond was unlike anything she had ever seen, Emma thought to herself as she extended her legs in the cool water, sighing when the gentle ripples and gliding movements of her feet had a calming effect on her. When she judged that she was sufficiently rested, she grabbed her borrowed sword and walked off to find the beach again, where a certain prat was. Damn it, she had slapped him...

How odd, that in the past five years she has been acquainted with the lieutenant, the axis of her world has shifted too far too quickly. First, the horrible twisted rivalry between her mother and the Evil Queen, Regina, had finally ended, Snow White's kingdom saved by the love of an outcast archer and thief for the woman who was renown for her skills in magic and her fixation on hatred. Then Rumplestiltskin's son, Baelfire, entered her life.

She had befriended Bae and, according to her parents' description of her behavior, had allowed her naiveté to influence her feelings toward him. David didn't approve of him, though Snow was more understanding of Emma's young love for the boy, she eventually sided with her husband and agreed that a union between their daughter and the child of the Dark One was altogether a terrible alliance. Rumplestiltskin might have changed due to his new romance with a girl named Belle and his devotion to Bae, but he was not to be trusted.

As for Killian... Their story wasn't much to tell, really. He had been introduced at court when she was nearly fourteen, a foreigner exiled from another land because of "moralprinciples." All she had thought of him on first sight was that yes, he was handsome, eloquent and as pig-headed a man as she ever saw one. She learned quickly that he was obsessed with what he called "good form," his chambers were as neat as a pin (servants' gossip, not personal opinion), and he never looked at a woman unless to criticize her.

Again, that's what all the ladies  _said_. Emma herself was usually too busy training or finishing her studies to be involved in the flirtation and useless chatter that filled the corridors of the castle. Still, she had gazed more than once at the rather charming young lieutenant, with his dreams of sailing the seven seas and exploring worlds. It was a laudable ambition, and she envied him for the opportunity her father would give him to do so. King David rather liked him and his brother.

Then there was that time when Killian was set up by a jealous visiting nobleman, who had noticed the crown princess' pointed attention toward the navy officer. He stole the crown jewels from her parents' bedroom and tricked the servants into believing that Killian Jones had smuggled them into his chambers. The evidence was in the right place, proof complete for all to see.

But despite her parents' reluctance to listen to Killian's pleas of innocence, Emma heard honesty in his voice and saw it in his eyes. It was one of her talents, really, to see what others thought was hidden, and she was loathe to let a man she secretly admired take the fall for another's crime because of his stubborn sense of honor and his inability to save himself.

She had cornered Sir William and gotten the truth out of him at knifepoint. Needless to say, the king and queen had been less than surprised at her methods, pretended to act shocked, and then apologized profusely to a distraught lieutenant and his loyal captain brother.

When hearsay of her involvement in his case spread and reached the man in question, she was startled to find him poised outside her room one day, holding a choice bouquet of buttercups and a shy smile on his face.

And for a time, the princess and the sailor became good friends, and she realized quickly that she never wanted their bond to be broken. What she didn't even want to admit to herself was that there were moments in the night where she found herself wondering what it would be like to kiss him, to be desirous in his eyes and be stroked by his hand. Such attraction was dangerous to accept, and she therefore dispelled it as best she could, keeping lust at bay by fervently denying it.

Killian Jones destroyed all of those hopes when he left court with his brother, assigned some important mission by her father, and worse of all, he didn't even say good-bye to her. When he returned two years later, she didn't want to see him at all, let alone speak to him. His betrayal of her good faith, of her fears that she would lose everyone she cared for (not that she told him about that), stung very deeply, and she was notorious for holding grudges.

She still hadn't forgiven him.

Some would deem his slight a petty one and simply disregard it, but she wasn't able to let go of the loss she had felt when he departed, the loneliness he had left behind as a farewell gift. She never confided in either Snow or David about that particular wound, but she saw the way they looked at her sometimes; it was a safe deduction that they understood more than they were telling.

Now, to be stranded on some stupid little island with this man, of all possibilities, was absurd. It was terrible, horrible, ridiculous, hateful, bad, bad,  _bad_ ―

"Emma! Emma, where are you?"

She groaned. Oh no. He'd found her.

True to her expectations, Killian Jones appeared in front of her in less than a minute, panting very hard and looking absolutely livid. The moment he laid his eyes on her, he strode forward, both hands clenched into fists. "You may be a princess and my sovereign's daughter,  _Your Highness_ ," he growled, almost before her, "but that gives you no excuse to commandeer our only means of defense, not mention parade yourself around like a peacock when you have no idea what inhabits this land!"

She rolled her eyes, throwing the scabbard down at his feet. "Keep it. The blade was nearly blunt anyway. As as for being an inhabited land," she retorted sarcastically, "I just circled the whole  _island_. It's small, with plenty of herbal growth, but spectacularly void of any company besides your charming self."

He was too occupied buckling the swordbelt around his waist to look at her, but she found herself staring at him. His white uniform had dried, and it seemed he had unbuttoned his shirt mid-chest ( _because of the heat?_ ). The tight, starched fabric was adhering to his form unscrupulously, and despite her irritation with him, she didn't fail to notice the dark hair covering his skin, muscular limbs tensing from his movements―

"How did you find me, anyway?" she inquired, peering at her soiled blue gown with distaste. She needed breeches. Or long trousers. And a proper shirt. Otherwise, she'd be covered in ticks and gnats by the end of the day and she'd be sweating profusely. But truth be told, it didn't feel that warm in the sun, though they were in the tropics.

Maybe she just hated dresses altogether. After all, on a normal day she would do anything to get rid of her corset for good ― even burn it.

He snorted. "You left a trail wide enough for even the most dim-witted animal to find, Princess." His sword snapped into place and he finally faced her, his expression now calm.

Oh, she'd had just enough of his snark. First it was his coldness during the journey to and from Ariel and Eric's kingdom, and now here of all places. "Let's make something clear here, Lieutenant," she said firmly, arms over her chest. "While we wait for your brother to rescue us, you will address me by my name, Emma."

A devilish grin crossed his lips, and her breath caught in her throat. How did the shy naval officer manage to be so annoying in one instant and so tantalizing the next? So much so, that he was almost like...

Like a pirate.

"Then by all means, love, follow your own advice and don't stand on ceremony," he murmured, drawing closer. His hand reached out to take one of her windblown curls and gently rearrange it behind her ear. "Call me by mine."

She immediately wanted to do the opposite just to spite him, but her inner senses had other ideas. "Killian," she breathed out instinctively, her tone transforming one simple whispered word into a low moan.

His eyes widened, and then they descended down her figure, pausing. Emma felt herself blush hotly, but she couldn't look away from him. He had suddenly lost his attachment to propriety's rules as he gazed so boldly at her.

Then he coughed, bowed his head, and turned away. "We need to find shelter _._ "

Because being with him under the same roof ― or canopy of trees ― would be such a good idea. Emma cleared her throat as demurely as possible. "Yes, of course. I think I saw a cave on the west side―"

"Excellent. Let's be off then," he interrupted stiffly. Moving as if to proceed in that direction, he paused and then scowled at her. "But first, I need to be sure that I can trust you not to act foolishly again."

"I acted foolishly?" she cried out indignantly. "Says the man who decided that sitting on under a coconut tree was the best plan when we're stranded like this!"

He gritted his teeth but didn't pursue the argument further. "Alright, Princess ― since you deem yourself to be the cleverest one here, with the best ideas in hand, why don't you lead? I'll follow, but don't blame me if anything goes wrong, y'hear?" His tone was so condescending that she wanted to scream back at him.  God, she was angry at him all over again.

Growling, she turned her nose up at him as she walked off, only to almost trip over her own feet when they got caught under a protruding plant root. He snickered behind her back, and she felt her blood boil. Damn impudent, foppish man.

Not only would this trek be lengthy, she thought to herself as she limped off with sore toes, it was going to be very, very painful _._

* * *

By the time they made it to the cave, Killian was growling from frustration. Emma absolutely refused to listen to him at all, giving him the classic silent treatment in retribution for his untimely outburst, and God, it was actually bloody working. Halfway through their journey, she stopped short, then disappeared into a series of tall bushes.

Thinking it was nature's call and his duty to avert his eyes, he waited patiently for her to emerge. After god only knows how many minutes later ― much too long for a simple piss, even for a goddamn infuriating woman ― the princess came strutting out of leaves... _half-naked_.

Her gown ― which had been too provocative in its own right ― was literally cut into pieces, the top portion hugging her upper torso from under her arms until right above her waist and the lower half starting right above her hips and descending down to her calves. There was no corset to speak of.

Thank God it was obvious she was still wearing her other undergarments.

The result was him seeing white and struggling to breathe properly through his now-too-tight collar, the heated air around him intensified to the point that his skin felt like it had been scalded.

And like a fool, he had turned his lust into anger, scolding her mercilessly for being improper, for dressing indecently. She had said nothing to his rebukes, only shaking her head at him and rolling her eyes before proceeding onward over the trail she had created, muttering something about "just being too warm in the damn sun."

There was no denying that Snow White and David's daughter was the epitome of beauty, and that all who met her were instantaneously floored by her good looks ― until they experienced her quick, outspoken tongue and sharp mind.

He, on the other hand, had been awestruck by all facets from the moment they had been introduced at court. And utterly, utterly flustered to boot.  _She is quite a woman_ , Liam would tell him when they discussed the royal family on occasion. He would nod in response, keep his thoughts to himself.  Then, in the depths of the night, his bottled daydreams would be released.  There were moments when he just succumbed to his desires and literally took matters into his own hands. He wasn't entirely sure when his honest infatuation had converted into irrepressible passion, but it was more than certain that the change was here to stay.

Perchance he caught a glimpse of her returning to the royal stables, daring riding habit and tight trousers putting her lithe figure on on display as she led her steed to its quarters.  His sordid fantasies included him kidnapping her (playfully, of course) on horseback, carrying her to the nearest grove of trees, unbinding her body from its constraints and exploring it: riding her hips until her bare breasts bounced wildly and her taut nipples entered his willing lips, tasting her sweet mouth with his tongue until he couldn't sense anything that wasn't Emma...

Or there were her sword-fight practices, when she was dressed in loose, see-through garments, and he could picture exactly what he was longing for. One of his most frequent imaginings was her response to his ardor: how she would run her lovely hands down his chest, her golden hair falling over her perfect shoulders. It would hide their kisses from the world and keep them sacred, like the winding branches of a weeping willow tree, a curtain that naturally protected and was cherished for it. She would want to find every part of him, battling with him for dominance and surrendering to defeat when he showed her all the things he could do with his hands and his mouth. How she would moan and cry out in his arms when he took her hard, bringing her pleasure more than once. His teeth nipping at her soft skin, her wondrous thighs squeezing and gripping his waist, her feet fondling his legs, her tight channel filled with his aching cock like a sword buried to the hilt in its rightful scabbard―

Then the more innocent moments... He pictured sweeping her windswept locks to the side, worshiping her beautiful neck, and caressing her body as they lay together, his nose brushing over her jaw as he printed soft kisses all over her face...  They would curl into each other and feel all that was growing between them, their souls bare.

Eventually, it all got worse and worse until he required his nightlong activitiesor he would go mad with want, seeing no one else but her. It certainly didn't help that he'd never had a woman in the first place, that this physical prowess was just wishful thinking on his part, provoked partly by sailors' talk and male hearsay. And, to top it all off, he wanted the bloody  _princess of the realm_  so desperately. Someone untouchable and unreachable ― for someone like him. His moods were turbulent, his attitude sour and bitter during the day, and when his brother would question his erratic behavior, he could only wave the inquiries off, ashamed to tell him anything when he already knew what the answer would be.

Liam would tell him to find a lovely lass to "take care" of his problems in that respect, if it was bothering him so much. Too bad that the one he desired had to be the very one he could never have.

But how could he explain that the princess was bringing to his knees every time she so much as passed by him, glowing with warmth and passion that he was sure only she possessed? How could anyone understand that all other women seemed blasé and insipid, their talk an endless string of monotony? How could he map out when and why and how he had started to see what women were ― what a realwoman was ― the instant he had seen Emma?

He should rid himself of this attraction, sinful and wrong and paralyzing.

Good God, he couldn't reason with himself anymore. Reasoning was madness when she was sanity. He never believed the sailors' talk of being bewitched by a woman, but now he did, and despite his attempts to subdue himself and his traitorous imagination, none of it worked.

When she spoke, her candid words incited rage, laughter, rebellion, intrigue. When she moved, it was with fire, with wind, with heart. Now, stuck on this island alongside her, he didn't know what to think or how to think. At every turn, Emma was exasperating, stubborn, even asinine.

Then she would merely look at him, her green eyes piercing his, and all he could see was every curve, every line of her face. The way her exposed skin tempted him with what was still covered beneath the intact fabric of her new attire. The way he began to lose control of himself, feeling that all too familiar urge rise.

It was strange, though, since his fantasies had all but faded during the long years at sea, where her face became a memory and he could only see its outline, details obscured. Why were they back so suddenly, and so forcefully?

The whole ordeal was so odd that he found himself with a throbbing headache and...ahem. He peered down at his crotch and suppressed a groan.

"Did you say something?" Emma was staring at him bemusedly, both brows raised on high as she studied him.

God, she could study him at a much closer range...and preferably when they were both unclothed...

Killian bit back an undignified croak when he tried to answer her, feeling his face grow hot and bothered and bloody damnation, she would see the state of him any minute now.

"N–nothing," he stammered, stepping around her so he could gain the better footing and conceal his front from her view.

For all the years he'd known her, he had tried so hard to cover his lust with harsh words, with brutal glances, with indifference. Pretending ― always pretending. He was so conflicted by his feelings that he couldn't decide what was better: having her know the truth and experiencing her possible rejection, or leaving her in the dark and effectively silencing any chance of fulfilling those dreams of his.

But every time he had this argument with himself, the same conclusion presented itself: he was a lieutenant in her father's navy, a sailor amongst hundreds, and she was the crown princess, favored and noticed by all.

Hopes? Wishes? Chances? Hah, he had none. If he told her, she would laugh at him. If he told her parents of his intention to court her, they would throw him out of the palace, no doubt, because of bad form.

It didn't matter in the least that Emma had taken special measures to save his reputation once, or that they had grown closer before he had left for the open sea. He liked to think that they were friends then, or as much of friends as a subject and his future queen could be. They had only talked, shared each other's company for minutes at a time ― he had never even escorted her around the royal gardens or shared a dance with her during one of the Charmings' famous balls ― but he still treasured what they had had. No one besides his brother had ever cared for him in that way.

He remembered all too well his reception when Liam and he had come back to the Enchanted Forest after two years.  _Two wretched years._

He had been nigh eighteen when they had first landed at that port after their venture in Neverland, his brother wounded by their king's treachery and seeking respite during exile from home. The instant Liam had spoken with King David and Queen Snow White, he had been happier than Killian had seen in a very long time. But for himself, it was the welcoming smile of a teenage Emma, young and bright and so winsome, that had snared his heart in its guileless trap.

In comparison, their second homecoming was horrific. Their Majesties were kind and understanding, as always, but Her Highness didn't even pay him a second glance. He felt everything inside him rend viciously when Emma continued to ignore him even after he had approached her, refusing to speak with him directly or return his stares.

That night, he indulged himself for the first time in a long time in a flask of hard rum. Or, as his brother would sternly correct, several flasks full.

It was an endless struggle, telling himself constantly that he wasn't Emma's equal, that she deserved much better than him and that their stations in life had predetermined their fates. It was a futile one, more like it, because no matter how many times his brain fought using logic and common sense, it couldn't win against his heart.

"Do you think Liam and the others survived the storm?" Emma asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

"I hope so.  Judging by the lack of debris, we were the only ones who were shipwrecked." It was right to worry about the safety of his brother and the crew, right to worry about their ship, right to worry about what Emma's parents would think when they found out she was missing.  

How wrong it was to let those concerns idly melt into the ground when he was so near her presence.

He gulped when she tried to blow some air on her sweaty skin and it didn't work to soothe her. Huffing, she stomped to the nearest tree within reach and snapped off a palm branch, immediately fanning herself. The deafening crack made him jump in his boots, despite his eyes being adhered to her every move.

When she threw her head back to gain better access to her neck with her self-made wind, hair cascading down her back like a golden waterfall, he licked his lips thirstily, fixated on how her barely concealed breasts were rising and falling as she sighed and whimpered and damn it to hell, moaned. His hands clenched into fists as she started to breathe faster, and all he could wonder about was if she would make the same noises when they would―

"Oh, that feels so good," she enunciated, her fingers lingering to check if her flesh was now sated and dry. His shirt sticking to his skin while his pulse increased, Killian started to see black spots in his vision when she ran her hands through her hair as well.

Enough is enough, he thought to himself. Why not indulge in a little recklessness for once, instead of always following the rules? They may not be equals when in society, but here, on this deserted island...she was a woman, and he was simply a man.

He wanted relief from the heat as well.

"Uh, hold this for me, will you?" he commanded brusquely, stripping off his belt and scabbard and dropping both onto her open palms. Her eyes snapped open, and she gaped at the weapon as if she had never seen a sword before.

She only started to blush when he began to unbutton his shirt hurriedly, nearly tearing it off in his haste and yanking it out of his trousers. "What ― what the hell are you doing?" she demanded, sounding outraged. And...impressed?

He also stared down at his bare chest, skin pale from being hidden by thick garments but muscles toned from steady toil only a sailor's life could provide. Shrugging, he prepared to throw the discarded article of clothing into the nearest bush, but thought better of it. They had no supplies, and who knew how long they would be here? Best to save all they could, even if it was a dreadful white shirt he never did like wearing much. One that now looked like all the dirt in the world was attached to it.

For now, he'd keep the trousers on, he chuckled to himself. Otherwise, Emma might tie him up to the nearest tree and leave him for dead. Or slap him again. This lass had gumption, alright. But unfortunately for her, so did he.

"You're right ― it's too absolutely bloody hot around here," he concurred, grinning at her shamelessly when she didn't respond to him. "My God, have I actually rendered the intrepid Princess speechless?" One thing he was certain of was that Emma did  _not_  like to be teased in any manner, meaning, or form. He couldn't exactly pinpoint where this daring side of him was coming from, but the more his voluptuous companion paraded herself around him, the less he cared about putting on a show of politeness.

When was the last bleeding time he had done something he wanted to do instead of what he ought to do?

And he wanted to be carefree, not thinking of the views of others for once.

When Emma continued to look anywhere but at him, still flushing a charming shade of red, he clucked his tongue at her, leaned back against the nearest tree, and smirked. "Such modesty, love ― however will we endure this ordeal if you shirk me, hmm?" He had unconsciously dropped his shirt on the dirt, but she bent down to grab it when he moved as if to leave it.

"If you lose this shirt, I will kill you," she growled, bunching it up and throwing it violently at him. "Now let's get to the damn cave."

He stifled a laugh before clearing his throat. "After you, milady." Bowing with a flourish and hoping to win a smile from her in lieu of her irritation, he looked up to see that she had already turned her back on him and was running off at an incredibly fast pace for someone who had almost been fainting from the heat. Her bare legs, long and slender and tempting the hell out of him, flashed from beneath her skirt.

Groaning under his breath, he raced to catch up with her.

* * *

"Well, it's not the palace, but it will have to do." Killian pronounced every syllable distinctly and in a semi-mocking tone, attempting to ruffle his companion's feathers. He scowled when he noticed that the walls of the cavern were dripping wet.

Just bloody fantastic.

And apparently, his offhand comment had rubbed Emma the wrong way, because she looked madder than a hornet whose nest had been crushed. She glared at him and refused to proceed farther into their would-be shelter. "Look, Jones, if you have some sort of problem, then I highly suggest you spit it out before sharing close quarters with me," she spat out.

"Why on earth would you think that?" he countered, trying to ignore the curves of her hips and how her hands exquisitely framed them. Of course it didn't work.

Emma rolled her eyes. "First of all, just because I've been served all my life doesn't mean I don't know how to do anything useful. I may be used to living in a castle and being a  _princess_ ," she uttered the word with disgust, "but I love being outdoors, and my parents taught me more about survival in the wild that you would believe." She heaved a restless sigh. "Secondly, despite how much we dislike each other, it would be better if we at least try to get along and work together to make it here. There's no telling when your brother will come and...we should really try to make the best of this." Her voice had descended to a low whisper, sad and full of longing.

Killian squashed the will to pull her into his arms and kiss away her worries.

"You think that I dis–doubt you?" He bit his tongue to catch his slip of the tongue before a wry smile crossed his face. As he slowly approached her, the torch he had lit, thanks to the flintstone he had found near the entrance, illuminated her beauty to new heights, and in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to love her. However, if she saw the depth of his passion for her, she certainly didn't show it. "Emma...you are the most bloody brilliant person I know. If anyone can live through this, it's you, lass. But I agree. We need to trust each other, to take that leap of faith. Let's not be at war with each other anymore. Let's be allies, aye?"

She eyed his outstretched hand warily, but finally ( _finally_ ) her cross expression softened into one of understanding, and her fingers met his.

Then his lips reached for her skin of their own volition, and he was kissing her hand, his eyes following every movement of her face. Something was flickering there, but he couldn't read the emotion at all.  It was too well hidden.

Rapidly was her hand taken from his grasp, and after a pause, she was examining the cave meticulously. "How are we going to sleep in such a humid place with no blankets or...anything?"

"Well, it's simple."

Raising one fine brow, she cocked her head.

He cleared his throat again, growing nervous. "We...we, uh...we just have to sleep...together."

Her jaw dropped open, and the image would have been quite comical had she not been visibly fuming at him. "Sleep together?" she hissed. "What kind of pervert are you, Jones?"

Brushing off such a remark should have been easy for him. After all, he was no stranger to insults and belittling at his expense, as jealousy and envy and plain malice were present in many a person. But the way she questioned the possibility of  _them_ , however small it ever was or ever would be, caused every fiber of his being to shiver from pain. The feeling was deepest where he believed it had originated, and he had to bite back a bitter retort ― and his acute hurt ― in order to properly explain himself.

"No, Your Highness," he said stiffly, "not that kind of  _sleeping_. I was talking about real, efficient rest. Naturally, I would never suggest even that willingly. It would be highly bad form, and not to mention ungentlemanly. The idea only crossed my mind because, as you just noted, we have no other garments other than what we're wearing. Keeping each other from freezing to death at night by sleeping close to one another was my only intention, I assure you."

Her eyes narrowed. "This is a tropical island ― it's probably warm at night, anyway." She coughed uncomfortably. "I just pointed out it was wet here, so thanks, but no thanks. I'll be fine without the...snuggling."

Disgust ― that was disgust written on her face, wasn't it? Disgust for him...all for him. Damn it, Jones.

Killian groaned silently, gnawing on his bottom lip. "Perhaps, perhaps not. I guess we'll just have to see. I'll...um...set up a fire, and you―"

She shook her head at him. "I'm not helpless, you know," she huffed. "I'll set the fire, after you go and get the firewood!"

"Gods, woman!" he growled, losing his temper. No other female in all the realms could be so infuriating as she. "There's a bloody difference between asking and demanding!"

Drawing his sword from his scabbard, he hastened toward the mouth of the cave, but his pride refused to let her have the last word. "And by the way,  _Emma_  ― trust doesn't begin with us fighting. If you want me to treat you as an equal, stop acting like you're above me."

He didn't wait to hear if she had contradicted him. No, he was following that most natural of instincts, where frustration and ire combine into a fierce flame of resentment.

Trying to win over Emma was like battling a dragon: you would be incinerated, but the challenge and need to overcome it would be stronger than any fear ― because Emma was both the dragon and the treasure, the obstacle and the goal.

She was a princess with a warrior heart like her mother's, a temperament like her father's.

But he's no knight in shining armor.

And being friends with David and Snow was a very different bone to pick at in comparison to being friends with Emma.

How was it possible that he could go so fast from wanting her with every breath to wishing he was thousands of leagues away from her?

* * *

The island, in itself, was beautiful. Lush. Fruitful. Exotic, in its own way. Even sort of romantic.

Emma hated it. Every single, last bit of it.

She hated that she had to wander pointlessly through the jungle, by the seashore, over the grassy hills. She hated that the days included weaving palm branches into makeshift mats, collecting coconuts and pineapple and breadfruit for their food supplies, and searching for enough firewood to last the night and keep away wild animals (so far, there weren't any). She hated counting the days by scratching tally marks on the wall of the cave. She hated the routine of waiting, searching, storing, hoping, and then deflating. She hated having to always go down to the small stream not that far from their shelter in order to get a drink of water.

And she hated the phrase "everything we need is right in front of us," courtesy of one eagerly motivated, overly enthusiastic Killian Jones.

She didn't even want to think of the distant luxury of toilets and bathtubs and fresh clothes ( _and soap_ ). It hurt too much. Thank heavens the storm had hit when she had been in a simple shift and dress, with no time to put on a corset. Dismantling that would have been much greater trouble.

True, she had had a good laugh on seeing Killian desperately try to go fishing with a long stick, a windy rope he had braided together from thick, long, blade-like leaves of some plant he had found, and a hook he had fashioned from the end of one of his suspenders (which he hated wearing, apparently, and therefore had hidden them in his satchel during their voyage). But the look on his face when he had failed, desperate and annoyed, had stunned her into silence, and she had felt compelled to squeeze his arm gently and give him a sympathetic smile.

He didn't smile back at her that day.

But most of all, she hated nighttime, when she would be faced with a brooding and mute Killian, who stared into the fire on end and didn't speak to her at all, the complete opposite of his daytime self. She would stare at the flames as well, dream of soft beds and hearty meals and her horse and her parents, and then she'd mumble her excuses before going to their large sleeping mat. The palm leaves were itchy and stiff and dry, but it was better than sleeping on the ground. Then, minutes or hours later when she still couldn't fall asleep, her thoughts keeping her up, the careful sailor would finally come to bed, dropping down and turning on his side so that their backs were facing. At least they could sleep in their clothes.

She was a light sleeper. He was a heavy sleeper. That probably explained why she was the only one who was highly aware of the...interesting positions their bodies were in at the break of dawn when she'd awaken.

Sometimes, she would be facing his back and he would be facing the wall, her arm over his waist and her head resting between his shoulders. Once, they were just facing each other and not touching. Or she was snuggled up in his arms, held close to him as if they were lovers.

Those were the  _innocent_  scenarios.

As for the others... The worst had been when she had woken up with his face nestled between her breasts, his arms completely wrapped around her and his legs hopelessly entangled with hers. His head in the crook of her neck, his hands on her waist, her hands on his chest...  She could handle all of those. But that particular time, when she had tried to extricate herself from a very, very compromising situation, he had refused to let go of her. Deeply asleep (she had checked thoroughly), he had gone even further than just holding her so intimately.

She didn't know if he had done it on purpose or he really had been dreaming, but his hands had risen, sloping over her sides, his hips rutting slowly against her, and then...

His mouth had taken action.

His fingers, curling over the top of her adjusted dress and pulling the fabric down. His lips placing warm, wet kisses on the newly freed skin, which happened to belong to the tops of her breasts. It drove sensual heat between her legs and made her body shudder inside.

Emma had thought he would stop his ministrations once he reached her neck, but instead of going up, he went down _._  Feeling his tongue repeatedly tease her nipples through the remainder of her dress and shift, one of his hands traveling swiftly down her naked stomach and stroking her thighs beneath her skirt...

She had finally bolted and jumped up, which had sent Killian sprawling and rolling until he hit the stone wall. Of course that had awakened him, still dazed and unsure of what was happening, but she hadn't stayed around to find out more about his reaction. He had been probably dreaming  _wet dreams_.

Her parents had had "the talk" with her when she was ten, and then in more detail later, when she was an adolescent. Her maids constantly gossiped about their affairs, there was dirty literature stashed in the library...  She wasn't ignorant when it came to sex. Inexperienced ― yes. But not ignorant.

Being physically close to him was dangerous, for him and for her. Some things could never be taken back.

She also wasn't a fool. Lieutenant Killian Jones was, decidedly, a very handsome man, and when he was behaving himself and acting like the gentleman he claimed to be, he was a pleasure to be around. She remembered. 

Women at the royal court had started swooning over him the instant he had come with his brother, both eager for refuge. No doubt he had enjoyed the company of some of them, in much closer quarters than with her (well, before all this). No doubt he had... _had_  many women over the years, looking and talking as he did―

Emma frowned even more on closely viewing her reflection in the water. Her hair was a bird's nest, one that looked like it had been terribly built and then abandoned until it became dilapidated. Her skin was oily and grimy, if the smudge marks on her arms and cheeks were any indication.

Damn it, she needed a bath. The stream was too shallow here, but there was a nicely shaded, thickly vegetated lagoon she had noticed during her treks around the island. Keeping this goal in mind, she immediately went back, following the markers Killian had made on the surrounding trees.

When she reached the cave, she imagined that he would be still sleeping.

He was nowhere to be found.

Her first thought was to wait for him to come back from wherever he went.

That was hours ago. Or at least, it felt like hours.

Emma wasn't the most patient of people ― this, she knew. And suddenly, beside growing annoyance, a spark of worry appeared, like when she had disappeared into the jungle and left him behind on the beach.

What the hell had happened to him?

* * *

She was frightened to venture off on her own, especially since there was the slightest possibility that Killian could come back and find her gone, and then they'd be searching for each other in circles. But her resolve was stronger, and grabbing the makeshift bag full of hollow coconuts, she set off.

At least he has boots, she muttered to herself, feeling the soles of her bare feet flinch from scattered stones and pointy seeds strewn over the ground. Usually, she would choose the sandiest path when navigating the island, but today she had to traverse it out of the usual routes in order to find him.

Emma became more and more puzzled the farther she passed through the jungle, seeing trees and flowers she was absolutely sure had not been there days before, her feet hurting like crazy. When she peered up at the sun and realized she had been walking around for hours in searching for Killian, she really wanted to scream from frustration. But her voice was too hoarse and dry from calling out his name so many times, and besides stopping by a small pool of cool water to wash her face and hands, she had had no rest to speak of.

Hungry, thirsty, exhausted, and frazzled beyond belief, Emma was at a loss at what to do next. Killian was missing―

Something splashed violently.  Yes, it was a great deal of water, she couldn't mistake that sound.  Then she listened more closely, recognizing the roar of falling water.

A waterfall. She'd found another waterfall.

Weaving her way through vines and hanging tree branches, she peeked through the extending foliage to observe her new surroundings. The ring of blooming orchids on every edge of the shore circling the small lake, the soft blue-green hue of the calm waves swaying with the interrupting breeze, the colors of the scenery...  It was stunning.

So beautifully raw.

So eye-catching that she only noticed a standing figure off to the side of her vision at the end of her survey.

Relief nearly burst her chest, tightening her lungs, and she longed to run and embrace him ― after scolding him properly, of course. She grinned, lifted her skirt so it wouldn't get entangled in the brambles, and―

Oh.  _Oh._

Emma's face flushed, her eyes burned, and all the shame she had been taught to feel when intruding on such an intimate, private moment came rushing to her head.

Oh God, this was so wrong.

Minutes passed, and she was shocked to find herself still staring in his direction. She was supposed to look away, to walk away―

When light broke through the water, she could see how his shoulder muscles powerfully rippled under the pressure of the waterfall, his head tossed back as he washed his hair, freed from its usual queue, his hands running through the long, wet locks, his palms rubbing over his face. His back was facing her, and thank  _everything_  that the waterline was above his waist.

He turned around, as if sensing her presence, and she suppressed a gasp as the bare chest she had done her best to avoid looking at during their time on this island became her new point of view. Dark hair traveled over his torso, trailing downward.  The image of how far it probably went made her blush even more hotly.

But it was his face that made her insides squirm. That damn perfect face, where his lips parted and water trickled into his open mouth, his long eyelashes dancing on his skin as he closed his eyes, his head thrown back under the cascading water, rivulets of it showering his neck while outlining his stubbled cheeks and jaw.

From the deep groan he uttered, it looked like he was truly enjoying his wash.

For Emma, it was the most erotic visage she had ever seen in her life.

When one of his hands sneaked underwater, she scrambled to escape and instead fell down on the ground in her attempt to get the hell out of her hiding place. While she stood up, the back of her dress got caught on something sharp and pointed, and when she had struggled back and forth, to and fro ― all to no avail ― the only solution was to break whatever was holding her prisoner.

The loud snap of the rather thick branch and being violently propelled forward by the force of her efforts ― that got his attention. After scanning the shoreline, his eyes found hers immediately. As if he had known this whole time...

In that moment, Emma wished for the prim and prudish Lieutenant Jones to waltz forward and apologize profusely ― after he had dressed, naturally. In direct contradiction to her hope, she was confronted by a rakish and smirking rogue, one who was slowly approaching her where she stood, step by step. One who wasn't covering up his bare form in any way. One who had the face and figure of the lieutenant but who was staring at her ravenously, as if he wanted to eat her alive.

Or he _wanted_ her to see him like this.

She really wanted to close her eyes shut when there was no obscuring what lay beneath his hips. But his expression was defying her, challenging her to be the demure, sweet princess. To avoid what was in front of her.

She had never seen a man's private parts before ― perhaps only in anatomy books when her tutor was looking in the opposite direction ― so the reality of it, especially that which belonged to someone she knew, was striking and confusing and God, she wanted to run―

"Hmm..." He licked his lips, scrutinizing her heatedly. "It seems the little princess has never seen a cock before, has she?"

She gaped at him, not believing what she was hearing. "Since when do you talk so crudely?" she countered, scorn in her tone.

"Says the spy who was watching me from the bushes."

"I ― I was  _worried sick_ about you, you idiot!" she exclaimed, her anger rising. "You disappeared, and I looked for you, and I couldn't find you―" Her voice was getting louder and louder, and she was so distracted and flustered by the terrible circumstances that she didn't see him emerge entirely from the water. "Goddamn it, I thought something had happened to you, Killian."

"Then why not come out and speak to me instead of lurk about?"

"Because...because...well, you're naked, you _ass._ "

He was dripping water into the sand, his feet creating strong outlines as he walked, his body one with the sun as both made use of each other. Even wet, he was quick, standing in front of her in mere seconds. "Shh..." he whispered, his fingers brushing over her lips. "I'm alright, Emma. Just went for a swim, is all."

"This is so unlike you ― what is wrong with you?" she snapped hysterically, prepared to slap him for her pains. But he caught her wrist.

"Now who's being rude, Princess?" he purred sultrily, tongue caught between his teeth. His gaze darkened when glancing downward. "Oh dear..."

She pursed her lips at his histrionics, rolling her eyes, and tried to evade his touch. But he held her fast and caught her chin with his fingers.

"Uh uh uh ― look down, darling."

Slowly, she did as he directed, hesitant to obey. The sight awaiting her made her mouth go dry, and she nearly choked. There was too much heat clawing at her skin, too much damn heat.

"Oh yes, I forgot. Never seeing a cock means never seeing it aroused either, correct, m'dear?" His grin was downright feral, the shy lieutenant gone and replaced with...with...

"Jones, stop this teasing! You're acting like some demented pirate!" she shouted, vainly wrestling in his grasp.

"Well, maybe you'd like to assist me in rectifying that situation, love?" His tongue was sliding over every syllable sinfully, making her nether regions begin to throb.

The tip of his erection grazed her thigh, and all that Emma could think was that she was seeing Killian Jones in the nude and why the hell wasn't he covering up?

He cocked his head at her, still watching, and then his smirk widened.

She thought it meant he would let her go, that this nonsense was over, that he had recovered his common sense and his gentile manners.

He obviously had other ideas, because one moment, she was standing on her own two feet, and the next, he had hauled her over his shoulder like a sack of flour ( _since when was he that strong?_ ). Arms flailing, she tried to whack at whatever part of him was within reach, he outright laughed at her efforts, and―

Cold water assailed her senses.  Through the echoing sound of a distant thud and several high-pitched shrieks later, her mind processed the fact that yes, he had just tossed her into the water, clothes and all. She bobbed to the surface, glaring at him.

"Thought you'd like to cool off," he taunted, grinning at her wickedly.

She hit the water frustratedly and spat out what she had accidentally swallowed. "Fuck you, Jones."

Her father would have dropped his cup of tea, her mother would have covered her mouth out of shock, the court would have broken into either peals of laughter or buzzing whispers, but Emma...  Well, she didn't give a damn anymore. She was on a damn fucking island, far from home, and stranded with the last man on earth she'd ever want to be alone with. Soaking wet and infuriated, she growled under her breath as she regained her footing and tried to walk out of the lake with as much of her dignity intact as possible.

Ignoring that her garments were most likely see-through now thanks to his trick, she waded through and sashayed her hips right in front of him, her nose in the air. She couldn't deny that she felt some measure of pride that he was struck speechless, frozen in place and gawking at her.

Nevermind that he was still stark naked and she couldn't help peeking at him a little bit. Heavens, that body...

Finally, when her eyes met his and she scowled at him, he had the grace to look ashamed of himself. Arrogance had visibly drained from his features, and with head hung down, he turned, searching for his garments and his boots, no doubt.

In one instant, her desire to beat him over the head with a stick for his impudence transformed into begrudging compassion, and she grabbed the lonely shirt and trousers ( _all of which had been cleaned_ ) lying on a nearby rock, preparing to hand them to him.

Staring at the bundle, a little smirk crossed her lips, and she reconsidered. "Looking for these?" she teased. When he came forward and tried to take his clothes from her, she drew back. "Say the magic word."

Now he rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. Which only accentuated his lean  _assets_. Emma gulped hard but continued the façade. "Lass," he tsked at her, "it isn't right to torment a man so. C'mon ― give them over." His right hand was beckoning.

She couldn't explain her sudden determination, but she was going to make Killian Jones suffer. He had humiliated and provoked her, and now...

Now it was her turn.

"Not unless..."

"What?" he said, unamused.

She looked at him from under her eyelashes. "You help me undress."

His jaw literally dropped open. Mischief achieved.

"So I can bathe as well, of course," she snorted. Men. They only think about one thing.

After a lengthy pause, where she grew uncomfortable and he even more so, he nodded imperceptibly, finally grabbing his shirt and yanking the trousers on while she faced the opposite direction.

The problem with her dress was that it was tied in front and in the back, so it was nearly impossible to take off without help. Her maid had been a genius with knots, which didn't help Emma's cause. However, tearing off what she didn't need had been a relatively simply solution.

She could feel his breath on her skin as he came up behind her, overshadowing her body with his own. It didn't matter if he was clothed now or not.

To her, the orbit of her world had shifted completely till she wasn't sure which path to take in order to stay balanced. Then his fingers drifted down the thin layers of fabric to reach the laces. She stubbornly ignored what they were doing to her and focused on the task at hand.

The laces in front were a pain in the ass. And she could swear that it was entirely unintentional that the more she picked at the damn knot that held the front together, the more entangled it got. Emma sighed.

Damn. Now she would have to ask him to fuss with this one as well.

"Done," he whispered softly, stepping back from her.

"Wait―" she asked, wetting her lips. She pivoted on her heels and realized that he wasn't wearing his shirt. Why the hell wasn't he wearing his shirt? "The one in front ― it's stuck." She added a pout for good measure.

He shook his head, almost prancing forward to do something he clearly didn't want to do. Emma could see it in his expression, how helping her with this was bothering him.

At the last second, she changed her mind. "Look," she breathed out, "you don't have to do this. I'll...handle it." She tugged at the knot manically, desperately trying to get out of this messy business and just take her leave.

"Perhaps you can't handle it," he countered wryly, a small smile emerging. "Let me help, Emma ― I don't mind."

"Well, if you truly don't mind..." she repeated nervously, searching his eyes for confirmation.

Then, in one touch, the earth stopped spinning.

The gentle way he broke through the winding thread, following its twisted course and freeing it, spoke of patience, of years spent at sea. Of waiting. Of wanting to reach what he had waited for. She watched him carefully, his every move imprinted in her sight. He had been ordered to go forth into danger, and he had come back. He always came back.

When he softly announced that he was finished, she cared less about the dress. His eyes, blue and radiant and glowing, had captivated hers in the net of their combined stare, and she wasn't sure what she wanted from him anymore.

"Take it off?" she murmured back.

"Emma..."

" _Killian_."

His hands were trembling as his fingers glided over her still wet skin, reaching the sprung halves. He hesitated, like before a door he wanted to open but knew he shouldn't. 

Handsome, brave, devoted. Who could want more in a man?

The look on his face when both her half-dress and shift felt off her shoulders, dropping to the ground where they were silent and forgotten, was worth memorizing. Emma shivered.  She had never been seen uncovered by anyone, not even her maid. Her cheeks burned, and she bit hard on her bottom lip, very self-conscious.

When Killian did nothing, embarrassment swept in and tried to usher her away from him. She couldn't stand the very thought of rejection, and here he was, not―

When she pulled back, his arm snaked around her waist and brought her forward.

Emma could hardly inhale when he pressed his lips to hers desperately, her breasts tumbling against his chest in the process as his arms embraced her. Her nipples tightened at the sensation of feeling his heart beat, of feeling her first kiss, and when his tongue licked between her lips, she sighed, ready for him to show her what he could do. What he wanted to do ― to her.

Her fingers ran through his dark hair frantically when his tongue explored her mouth, tasting and swirling inside. His teeth nipped at her, and she tried to keep up with him, sucking on his bottom lip. He moaned, returning the favor by entangling his tongue with hers. All the while, his hands felt her, his roughened skin rousing the most peculiar thrills everywhere his fingers traveled.

Then, he pulled back slightly, breathing hard and staring at her heatedly. His hands lowered minimally, and in a flash of foresight, she understood what he wanted. Reluctantly leaving his lips, she took his hands and placed them on top of her breasts.

The core of her being shuddered from pleasure when he squeezed them at first. When she moaned and whimpered as he repeated the gesture, he began to knead them both in earnest, and his thumbs circled her nipples. "God, Emma," he groaned.

Her hands trailed down his chest, longing to go further but afraid to.  _S_ he didn't know what to do next.

But when her body reacted for her, when she arched her back as he continued his ministrations, he was bolder and took them one step further. Tentatively, he lowered his mouth to her skin and began to kiss around her bosom, exploring the valley between her breasts. He drew closer and closer, tongue circling the curves of tender flesh, lips joining in to lavish sensitive skin with wet, hot kisses. Finally releasing his hands from their hold, he grasped her hips firmly.

When his lips swallowed her nipple, tucking it into his mouth, she gripped the back of his neck hard with both hands, eyes rolling back in her head. Then he began to suckle, licking and nipping at the taut bud.  She cried out, her hips thrusting against his of their own accord. There was a low hum in his back of his throat as he switched to the other breast, treating its neglected nipple with equal attention. Emma couldn't stop herself from moaning his name meanwhile, her nails raking down his back. His gaze alight, he growled in reply, stealing another kiss.

There was heat boiling between her thighs, and she curled one leg around his, wanting no more distance between them. She had read and heard stories, imagined what sexual desire could be like... But Killian Jones and all he had to offer was something else entirely. Everything he did ― every glance, every touch ― set her on fire within, and―

He cupped her ravished breasts in his hands, and her eyelids fluttered shut. He was breathing hard, and his muscles were quivering under her touch.

"Emma...my darling...you taste divine..." His voice was rough and husky, burning with his need for her. "You're so beautiful..." He took her hands from around his neck and kissed them, placing them facedown on his shoulders. "Kiss me, love ―  _please_."

The pleading and wonder in his eyes, consumed by lust as they were, made her smile until her cheeks hurt. His hands surrounded her face in a fervent caress, and she drowned in his scent, treasuring the moment. He was her own personal sun, and his beaming smile was new light.

His kisses were passionate and unrestrained and willful, and she never wanted them to stop. The more he gave, the more she returned, accustoming herself to the rhythm of his lips. He kept hungrily exploring her body, running his fingers through her rampant curls first and squeezing her behind last.  Emma wrapped herself around him in response to his encouragement, her blood rushing wildly when he slowly lowered her to the ground, soon following her. Her legs quickly parted open and fell to each side, welcoming him.

The grainy sand scratched at her back, and she pondered the safety of demonstrating such intimacy in the open. But all her doubts fled when Killian melded his figure to hers, and she could feel his erection pulsing as his clothed lower half ground against her bare hips. He was whispering her name over and over again as he skimmed over her neck with his mouth, his chest hair caressing her breasts.  Her fingers threaded through the still wet strands of his hair, tugging at them suddenly when he sought her nipples again with his tongue.

"Killian," she mewled. "I ― I  _want_  you..."

The vibrations of his answering groans sent another wave of arousal through her, and her hand crept dauntlessly between them, inching downward to where his hard length was stroking her through the fabric of his trousers. So foreign and strange, but promising so much pleasure... 

When her fingertips brushed it, he stilled altogether. A clench of dread and anticipation tied her stomach in knots.

"What's wrong?" She tried to angle her head so she could kiss him again, but he turned away from her.

Propping himself on his elbows, he raised himself up and stood, brushing sand off his limbs. Lying there, naked and exposed and throbbing and alone, Emma felt like crying.  But she couldn't let him see her lose control of herself.

"We ― we can't do this," he stammered finally, careful to not look at her.

She rolled over to reach for her garments, and as hastily as she could, she put them on, though the laces remained undone.

"You seemed more than ready to have me just seconds ago," she retorted, trying to sound as cross as possible. It was a lie. She was hurt and slighted and aching inside ― but not angry. Upset, yes. Glaring at him, she stared pointedly at his crotch. "You still are, apparently."

He blushed, but aside from biting his lip and peering down at the sand, he made no move to address the issue or defend himself. Cheeks flushed from exertion, lips reddened from their kisses, irises darkened from desire, his cock straining against his tight trousers...  Oh, he still wanted her. And Emma wanted to pursue the matter, but she felt too ashamed. This all has escalated to such an unknown level that she really didn't know what to say to him now.

"Emma, let me explain," he begged as she nearly fled the scene, sprinting toward the interloping trees.

"I don't want to hear your excuses," she said, teeth gritted so her voice wouldn't tear apart.

He grabbed her arm, stopping her. "But you don't understand, love―"

"I'm  _not_  your love!"

Killian looked stricken. "My feelings for you...," he uttered brokenly, "they're more than... If you let me ― if we did go  _further_... There's no telling how far it would go. And I ― I wouldn't be able to be with you just once. You...  You're a princess ― the crown princess ―  _my_  princess ― and I'm...I'm just a sailor in your parents' navy."

"Oh." Even now, her body craved his. "Well, it's of no consequence, is it?" she returned spitefully. "This ― it was a one-time thing." She swallowed her tears, needing to disappear and not see him gaze at her so longingly and sadly. "I'll..." Her heart was pounding, her sight blurry. "I'll see you back at the cave."

And with a whip of her skirt, she ran, heedless of his cries echoing after her.

* * *

Killian was furious. Mostly, it was with himself, but that didn't stop him from cursing everything ― the  _Jewel of the Realm_ , the weather, the island, the kingdom, and even his brother. Once he had pulled on his boots, he kicked at every tree stump in sight.

Damn it, she had been in his arms. Willingly. And she had wanted him, as much as he did her. Her kisses, her affection, her fervent response to him...  It had all come at him like a hurricane at sea, blowing his expectations out of the water. In all his years, he had never believed that she would  _ask_  him to make love to her.

No matter. His lass was long gone, and it was  _he_  who had bloody chased her away with his talk of honor and what they could and couldn't do.

What a fucking imbecile he was.

Emma had been right ― their dalliance had left him hard and wanting, and now he would have to take care of this mishap by his own hand. Giving one last long look at the waterfall he had chanced upon in the morning, he scoffed at his foolishness as he paced in Emma's footsteps, following her trail back to their shelter.

 _Emma._  His thoughts drifted back to how splendid she was, her body as gorgeous as he had always imagined. And then her mind and her soul, both noble and true, drawing him in further and further.

If she only knew how much he loved her...

Shaking his head, he scolded himself severely, so much so that he almost missed how the trail branched off suddenly in a different direction. And judging by the snapped foliage, it was a freshly created one.

She might hate him now. She might never want to see him again. But he still had a duty to her parents ― and himself ― to protect her and look out for her welfare.

There wasn't much about this place that was a surprise anymore. No wild animals, no natives. Just a stretch of wildlife, without even a single bloody bird. It was surreal, to be honest. His boots stamped out weeds and climbing vines as he trod onward, concerned about Emma. All these days and weeks, being so close to her and unable to do anything about it...  It had driven him mad. So he had pushed her away, because letting her in and having it turn to nothing would hurt him too much.

He really was a damn moron. Couldn't even take a chance on the woman of his dreams.

In a moment like this, he would go to Liam for advice, ask him for help. His brother was always there for him, and his absence was felt now more than ever. Hell, even David's counsel would be most appreciated ― despite the fact that yes, he was his king  _and_  Emma's father.

Taking out his sword, he swiped through unfamiliar foliage.  The monotony of it lulled him into a state of dizziness, the afternoon heat tickling his consciousness.

He really wasn't shocked at all to find himself at the edge of another lake, though this one was much smaller in size, closer to the range of the sea, and therefore better termed a lagoon.

And right in the middle of this clear lagoon was his runaway princess, floating leisurely on her back.

Killian felt his veins implode at the sight of her, as bare as she had been not too long ago. Making sure he was hidden by overlapping tree leaves and shrubs, he slowly undid his trousers, letting them pool around his calves by the tops of his boots, mind fixated on her and his needy cock.

It was easy to picture Emma's beauty when she was right in front of him, her lovely face highlighted further. Then his focus shifted to her breasts, peeking out from the water with nipples erect and wanton.  He began to stroke himself, taking his upright length into his hands. Her hips tilted upward, her folds dusted with soft, moistened golden hair, and the pattern of his steady pumps increased. Closing his eyes, he only had to recall her moans and sighs as he pleasured her, her skin devoured by his mouth and hands while she sought him in equal right. He could only imagine the wetness between her thighs if their lustful moment had continued, how it would feel to be inside her, to take her on her back with his hands gripping her thighs as he―

Biting down hard on his tongue to stifle his primal groan, he shuddered as he came hard, his release spilling onto the dirt. The tension in his muscles departed, and only the ground, soaked with his secret, was a witness to his act of desperation. Aloof and silent, the jungle vowed to keep it that way.

He watched from afar as Emma bathed herself, tried hard not to gape, and left only after she had emerged from the water and dressed herself once more, safe and sound. Hurrying back to the cave the same way he had come, he decided that his main prerogative should be getting the princess back home and off this island.

He could never have her.

She deserved much better than him.

It wasn't right to pine after her so.

After a minute of fighting, torturing his feelings into submission when they resisted termination, and pacing fiercely across stone, he gave up.

Combing through his brain for ideas, he started working twice as hard as before. Only through strenuous activity could he forget that for once in his life, it was the right place and the right time for him to seize the moment.

But he just couldn't. Because it might be the moment for him, but not for Emma.

And it was her happiness that mattered above all else.

Happiness above love.

* * *

Emma wanted to talk to him about what had occurred between them ― and, more importantly, what had been left unfinished. But every time she worked up the courage to ask him, to say something, he would blatantly ignore her, never meeting her eyes and continually occupied with what he called "a means off this bloody piece of land."

She knew he was attempting to craft a longboat, that he had set up fires along the beach using oil he had collected from fish  _(yes, he had somehow mysteriously figured out a way to catch them ― probably through the use of that net he had fashioned from thick twine_ ), that he had found a way to preserve enough fruit and water so that she didn't have to go out and collect both everyday, that he had given her a dagger he had made from fish bone.

Now that even the most menial task had been taken out of her hands, she had nothing to do, and she was all alone for the most part. Except at night, when their bodies would lie side by side while they themselves were miles and miles apart.

She didn't like that.

Her legs dangling along the side of the small cliff, her hair whipping about her head, she stared out at the shimmering ocean and crowded clouds, wishing that Captain Jones and the  _Jewel_  would come soon so she could be back in her kingdom again, where everything and everyone was not as confusing as Killian Jones. One minute, he was kissing her till her wits were numb, and the next, he was as remote as the island itself, not linked to anything.

Worst of all was the hidden flame blazing inside her, refusing to die. The way she would scan his body in the firelight at night, her fingers itching to touch his. How she longed to soften his frustration by running a hand through his hair, nuzzling his brow, and pressing her cheek against his as she stepped into his solace and broke its lingering cobwebs. She could climb over the barrier of his empty arms and fill that lonely space, giving him the embrace he needed.

That silly grudge of hers? The one where she was a petty child who didn't get what she wanted and then cried because it was gone?

She was no longer a child but a woman.

A woman who knew what she wanted and was willing to wait for it.

She was willing to wait for  _him_.

It would hurt like hell to discover that he had lost interest in her, that whatever was between them was gone. She couldn't stop believing in him, though. He had turned away, but she was still here ― like she had done to him when he had returned to her kingdom.

Suitors had come and gone since she was sixteen, but she had laughed at every one, never taking their intentions seriously. Her parents had despaired of her ever finding a spouse, scolding her for her pessimistic attitude.  Looking back, she now understood why she had rejected all those men.

That's it, she settled. He was  _not_  going to put her aside again. If he wouldn't speak to her ― she ― she ― she would make him _._

By whatever means possible.

Flirtation, seduction, threats, and subjugation were all viable options.

* * *

Killian was dead tired when the monsoon hit, flooding the island with a violent outburst of rain that was hard and unyielding ― much like a certain young lady he knew. He had left Emma quiet and dry in the cave after he had ordered her to stay out, but after checking his implements for catching any passing ship's notice, he hadn't made it back to escape the deluge.

Well, it looked like a deluge. Water was everywhere, swallowing plants and roots as it ran unchecked across the terrain.

By the time he reached the mouth of the cavern, the raindrops were pelting his face, and every hit stung mightily. His clothes were thoroughly drenched, his skin soaked to the bone, his queue plastered to his neck. He felt a hundred years old, decrepit and worn weary.

The fire inside, its heat pervasive, drew him inside.  Of course, the first thing he was faced with was a distraught Emma.

"Killian!" She jumped up. He half-expected her to slap him, not throw her arms around him in a tight embrace, her hands clutching at his shoulders. "You're back," she whispered hoarsely, snuggling into him. "I didn't want you to get lost in the storm, but I didn't know where to look for you."

Slowly, his resolve wavered, and his hand reached behind to stroke down her back. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, brushing his lips over her collarbone, and her hold on him strengthened.  _In every way..._

When he winced, her touch just missing the gash he had earned today from being too stubborn about eviscerating a particular tree branch, she pulled back to look him over from head to foot.

"You're hurt!" He let her drag him to the fire, taking comfort in her soft chuckles as she inspected his wet clothing. "And totally drenched."

Speechless, he eyed her closely when her expression fell as she realized that she had nothing to offer him in terms of help. They had no fabrics other than those on their backs, and it seemed that he would have to dry while wearing his saturated attire.

She finally saw the blood seeping through his shirt, and he hastened to turn away, not wanting her pity. "Oh ― I forgot to tell you.  Today, I found herbs I actually recognized, just in the grove outside this cave ― and I ― I made healing brews from all of them, as you never know when you may need healing herbs―" she rambled, taking several coconuts in her arms and depositing them by his feet.

"But first," she continued, her anxious tone quieting, "first, we need to get you dry."

"I can do it myself," he muttered after enduring her meticulous inspection, struggling to get his shirt off with one arm. No matter how hard he tried, he ended up looking like a complete fool.

"Here, let me help you." She started to pull his hand through his sleeve, but he yanked it out of his grasp.

"I can do it."

"No, you can't," she yelled back, her eyes glowing with hurt. "Stop being such a stuck-up prig and admit that you need me!"

Her choice of words echoed throughout the cave, resonating for miles, and they both stopped short, gazing at each other. She had no idea how much he wanted to say that she was his one desire, his only need.

"Alright," he said gruffly, his hesitation slinking away, "I apologize. Mistress Emma, would you please assist me in getting these damn rags off me?"

A nervous giggle escaped Emma, but her anger visibly evaporated and she drew near again, careful not to exacerbate his wounds. Her touch on his skin was so soothing, so cool and yet to warm, that he closed his eyes, biting his lower lip to hide his grateful moans. He couldn't help grimacing, however, when she took her handkerchief and dabbed at the largest laceration.

"The cuts sting that much?" Her green gaze was fixed on him.

Stripped to his waist, he felt strangely embarrassed. But when his instincts overcame him and he caressed her cheek with his knuckles, she didn't retreat. Instead, she leaned into his roving fingers, and his blood sang. "More than you know, Emma."

She bit her lip and glanced at the ground. "Aha!" she voiced suddenly, jerking backward and tearing the bottom of her skirt. He was shocked as she gathered strips of it and brought them to him. "Bandages," she announced proudly, and he smiled.  _Clever lass ― how I wish you could be mine._

Making him sit down on their mat, she began to anoint his scrapes with the herbs, wiping at the wounds themselves gently to clean out the dirt. "So..." she started cautiously, binding his elbow first, "you've been very busy lately."

"I have to be, if we ever want to get out of here."

She lowered her face, falling locks overshadowing it so he couldn't see her expression. "It's not as bad here as I thought it was."

"Oh?"

Nodding, Emma peeked at him. "Well, we're okay. We have a roof over our heads, food to eat...and each other. What more could two people want?"

His pulse thrummed to the sounds of her voice, the movements of her lips, the flickering of her eyes. Impossible... If she was saying what he thought she was...  

Killian attempted to bring humor to chase out his building hopes. "You're saying that you like being stranded with a stuck-up lieutenant who has no social skills and is rude to a fault?" he jested weakly.

"Is that what you believe I think of you?" She rubbed lightly over the gash on his abdomen, seeming to greatly concentrate on its sanitary state. Her consideration was doing wicked things to his focus on her face. "Is that what you think of yourself?" she questioned lowly.

He couldn't answer, not when the pain of his reply would tear his heart further. She traced the curves of his muscles with her fingers. His breath hitched in his throat.

"Do you know why I was so upset with you when you came back from your adventures? Why I didn't want to have anything to do with you?"

"Please..." he begged, his jaw clenching, "let's not―"

"It was because you had misunderstood me."

"What?" He was utterly baffled.

She rested her palms on his chest. "When you left without saying good-bye, I felt so lost. It was stupid that I ignored you afterwards, I'll admit ― but what I've always wanted to ask you was...why?" Her eyes scoured his, searching for truth and God, she was the shining star of his life and she always would be. "Why, when there was so much between us to be said?"

Killian gulped. "Emma, the reason that I couldn't see you again wasn't that I didn't want to. I did want to. But I couldn't...because then..." He smiled wistfully. "Then I'd see you, and bloody damnation, I wouldn't be able to go, even if my brother and your father forced me to. And also..."

"Yes?" she whispered, her eyelashes fluttering prettily and catching the light of the fire.

"You meant too much to me. I wanted you to have your best chance, and if I never came back... Well, I wanted you to be happy, even if it wasn't with me."

" _Meant_?" she murmured against his lips, her tongue caught between her teeth.

He laughed wryly. Of course she would notice. " _Mean_ ," he whispered back.

She was staring at him intently, processing his thoughts in her own mind.

"Killian," she began, her voice trembling, "I want you to know that I didn't push you away because I hated you. I pushed you away because you hurt me, though unintentionally, and while I wasn't aware of  _that_ , I thought..." She sniffled. "God, when I saw you set off on that ship, I wanted you to  _stay_."

"It seems we've been at cross purposes all this time." He cupped her cheek. "And I...I crossed a line, that day by the waterfall, and again and again. Emma, I shouldn't have―"

"Shh," she hushed, bringing a grin to his lips when he recalled that last time, he had shushed her. When he was nude, no less.

Bowing her head, she paused, and he thought she would remove herself from his company, that they would end this conversation and say their good-nights. That he would never be this close to her, or see her this vulnerable, again.

"You're still wet," she commented absently, fingering the laces of her dress.

He shrugged. "The heat of the fire will dry me," he sighed. "Eventually, in any case."

Her gaze glistened, she pursed her lips, and he thought―

She raised herself, standing on her feet, and his heart fell. Then he saw her hands drop down to her half-dress, and before he could register just what was going on, she had disrobed herself quickly, her skirt about her feet and her upper garments in her hands.

Killian told himself to look away.  _Look away, you damned man―_

Emma knelt down beside him, and he found no trace of shame in her scrutiny of him. God, her swaying breasts... "Here ― it's dry ― and warm, in addition." She started to pat his shoulders, fluffing his hair―

"Emma, you can't." He stopped her wandering hands. "They're your only clothes."

"But Killian, you could get sick ― and anyway, I want to." She swallowed hard, glancing down. "You really should take off your trousers, too."

His blood was roaring in his ears so loudly, all reason gone and burnt to ashes. Without argument, he easily slipped them off, his boots already sitting by themselves near the fire. Fearing she would flee, he made no further move. After hanging their clothes on the small rack he had fashioned out of long bamboo stems, she obviously took his patience as a sign to continue, and his limbs tingled when her skin was in contact with his, careful not to nudge his bandages.

Her lips were in front of his, tempting and lush and free. But he had to let her choose. This choice was hers, and only hers.

"There." She drew back. "I'm finished."

"Are you?" He felt himself flush at the insinuation in his query, but it was satisfyingly daring, to confront their relationship like this.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, only for her fingertips to pick at the fraying ribbon tying his queue. She loosened it completely, and it fell to the ground, a past memory as she threaded her hands through his drying hair, now untamed.

Her voice then trilled in his ear, and he was weightless, hanging on her every gesture. "Never. Why, we've only just begun," she purred, her mouth finding his neck, soft kisses lining the column of his throat. But even how she kissed him, there was uncertainty and gentleness there, belying that she was wanton in any way. His sweet, innocent Emma...

He grasped her chin with his fingers, and she gazed at him from beneath her eyelashes. "And I'll always want to begin each day with you, darling, no matter where we are."

When her lips melted against his like butter and honey, her taste a sweet, heady wine he could savor eternally, he took his time in returning her kiss.  He then guided her onto his lap, sweeping her legs off the floor so she was lying down and he was hovering over her.

Her smile was incredible. He ran a hand down her arm, entwining their fingers at the end, and then he slipped himself between her legs.

"Does it hurt?" He cocked his head at her. "A woman's first time with a man?" she clarified, biting her lip when he started to grin knowingly.

"Well, from what I've heard," he cleared his throat, "it might hurt, yes. But that depends mostly on the man and how he makes the lady... _feel_  beforehand."

She frowned. "Did the girls you've been with say it hurt?"

Ah, yes...  She assumed... He blushed deeply. "Emma...you'd be my  _first_." Rubbing at the back of his neck with his other hand, he squirmed under her stare, watching how understanding came to her.

"You've...you've never been with a woman? Ever?" There was wonder in her voice. Please let that be wonder, not disappointment...

"I...I was..." He couldn't meet her eyes. "I was waiting...for you."

A half-smile graced her lips. "You've been waiting for  _me_ all this time?"

"You're worth much more than just the wait, lass," he rasped, feeling his groin harden with want when she outlined his jaw with her fingers. "Our kiss was my first."

"So...if you've never..." Her cheeks became rosy. "How do you know all that you know?"

Both flustered by and pleased with her shyness, Killian coughed. "Heard things, read things. Like yourself, no doubt." He winked at her, and she giggled. Her playful attitude gave him courage to go on. "Besides, I've always believed that with the right woman, everything will come together naturally." He gave her a lopsided smirk. "No doubt you wanted me to be very experienced, hmm?

She pondered his question only for a second. "No," she said with finality, growing serious. "I know what I want. And what I want is to be with you." Her smile widened. "I can be only yours, and you...you can be only mine. We can belong only to each other, with no one else getting in the way. No memories, no regrets.  Just you and me."

He was flying, higher and higher. "Yes," he agreed happily, "just you and me."

And he sank down, down, down, spiraling fast into the radiance of Emma when they shared another, much longer kiss, his beloved taking the whole of his heart and soul into her beckoning arms.

* * *

"Darling," he whispered when they came up for air, "I don't really know what I'm doing. You'll have to tell me what you like. What you'd like for me to do."

Emma blushed again, but she didn't let go of him. Sitting up, she captured his lips with hers more hungrily than before, letting him guide her tongue into his mouth, nibbling on it gently. Moaning softly, she ran her hands down his back.

"I want you to do everything to me you ever dreamed of doing," she panted. "I want to ― touch you. To feel you everywhere." Staring up at him, she breathed, "Touch me?"

"With pleasure." His voice was a husky rumble as his hands wandered from her shoulders down her sides, stroking her hips with his thumbs while his fingers groped her behind meaningfully. She daringly caressed the back of his legs with her calves, and when he tentatively placed them around his waist, she laughed.

"We really don't know what to do, do we?" she snickered, gasping when he swooped down and began to nip at her neck.

"Actually, some things have been in a work in progress for  _years._ " He grinned wickedly at her, earning another of her marvelous laughs. His fingers teased her nipples, circling them, and she began to breathe heavily. "What I did by the waterfall," he murmured by her ear, "did you like it? Would you like me to do it again?"

Her hands traveled up and down his front, tormenting him. His retribution was licking at the hollow of her throat. "Killian," she gasped as he placed layer upon layer of open-mouthed kisses along her chest, " _yes_."

Both curvaceous breasts were awaiting him, the state of her nipples telling him that she was in the initial stages of arousal. Up and down they rose with her every breath, and his palms caught them midway, holding them steady.

"So perfect," he groaned, aching to taste them again. One nipple, firm and taut and tender, was soon enveloped by his tongue and teeth, his lips swallowing it, and he stared pointedly at her face as he sucked and licked, growling when she arched her neck and her lips parted from pleasure.

"Oh,  _oh_!" Grabbing at his shoulders, she squeezed them hard when his right hand kneaded her other breast, tweaking its nipple in time with his ministrations on the other. She cried out when he transferred to the second and continued to suckle her. Meanwhile, their hips were undulating, awkwardly and not in rhythm.

He finally released her breasts, smiling at her before trailing kisses down between her ribs until he found her stomach. He felt her body stiffen when he went lower.

"Emma, talk to me, love. Am I doing something wrong? Do you...do you want me to stop?"

"N–no. I'm enjoying myself." She smiled back at him. "But maybe..."

"Aye?"

"Talk to me?" She bit her bottom lip, embarrassed. "Tell me what you're doing, so I can keep up."

"Oh, my dear..." He came up and kissed her fiercely, tangling his fingers in her splendid golden strands. "You don't have to do anything tonight.  Tonight, it's all about you."

"But―" She pouted. "I want to participate."

Smirking, he aligned their hips together and then rolled them, reveling in her answering moan. "My beautiful woman," he crooned, "soon you'll be participating in full measure, I promise."

His erection was already painful, and he knew that his release would be soon. But Emma wasn't ready yet, and he wanted sex to be an amazing experience for her, just as he wanted it to be for himself. They were losing their virginity to each other, and he was going to have her come first.

His fingers reached the apex of her thighs, and she whimpered. "Please," she pleaded, her green eyes hooded but still mesmerizing him, "be gentle."

He stopped his fondling immediately, going down to her so she could feel every part of him against her. "I would never," he accentuated each word with a kiss against her lips, her cheeks, her face, "never do anything you didn't want. If you feel uncomfortable for even a moment, I'll stop at your word."

She pressed her forehead against his. "I don't want you to stop, Killian. I want you...and I want you to make love to me." Taking his hand in hers, she slid them down until they reached his original destination, and cupping her, he slowly parted her folds with his fingers.

"I'm going to enter you now, my love ― and I'm ― I'm going to touch you, inside, so you'll be ready for me later," he stammered, trying to hide his nervousness. Feeling her thigh muscles flutter, Killian hesitated, but she was peering down at his cock, and her gaze was heated.  Eventually, his lust pushed him to slip a finger within, stroking in and out.

"How will you know it's working?" she asked warily.

His other hand searched for hers. "You'll feel a rhythmic pull, in your belly." He swallowed hard. "Tell me when you feel it."

When she responded to his touch, rubbing against his finger, he increased the tempo of his thrusts, careful not to hurt her. Wetness, evidence of her thriving need, leaked out on his hand.

"Killian," she yelled out suddenly, arching her back, her legs squeezing his waist. Her other hand reached for him.

He nestled between her thighs, letting her embed her fingers in his hair.

"Darling." He kissed her deeply, her arms wrapped around him. His finger withdrew, and when his hand rested on her stomach, he could just sense the low hum of the growing contractions inside. "I think you're ready."

Emma was staring at him, wide-eyed and looking very frightened. "Killian―"

"Don't worry," he soothed. "We'll take it one step at a time."

The tip of his shaft grazed her entrance, and she closed her eyes, biting on her lip. He nudged her inner lips open as gently as possible, lifting himself up on one hand in order to hold her hips with the other. Sliding in, he felt her maidenhead, and in that moment, he knew there was no going back.

"Emma..." His lips brushed hers. "Look at me?"

Her eyelids opened. "Killian?"

"Are you...are you sure?"

She seemed to be really contemplating it. Then, she nodded. "Yes ― yes, I'm sure." She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, " _Take me_."

"It's about bloody time." He lunged inward, covering her cry of pain with his mouth and devouring her moans. Then, he started to thrust in and out, showing her how to meet his hips with hers.

She came up to him as he went down to her, and with every passing minute, her walls clenched around him. All too soon, that familiar feeling of completion came to the back of his mind. Desperately, he sought to pleasure her.

"I'm going to touch your clitoris now, my lass, and when I do, you're going to feel bloody fantastic, Emma," he hissed, seeking her nub as he continued to grind himself against her.

Clinging to him with all her might, she screamed, her body falling apart in the bliss of her climax.  Killian groaned loudly, arching his neck when he surged forward, his release almost in time with hers. Under the haze of their joint orgasms, only fleeting thoughts, faint and so far away, registered in his mind.

No, nothing would ever be the same again.

For now, he was hers.  And finally ― _finally_ ― this night, she became his.


	3. Part III - Madness

_Oh, take me down to the river,_

_Underneath the blood-orange sun,_

_Say my name like a scripture,_

_Keep my heart beating like a drum,_

_Legendary lovers, we could be legendary..._

"Legendary Lovers" by Katy Perry

* * *

"Will it always feel that amazing?" Emma curled into Killian, sliding her hand around his waist so that her head was lying comfortably on his chest. His fingers combed through her hair, inching downward to stroke her back. Not far away, the fire crackled and hissed, making the walls of the cave red and orange with its shadowy glow.

She felt a deep rumble under her cheek and realized he was laughing softly. "According to what I've heard, it's supposed to feel even more amazing in time."

"More amazing?"

He pressed his lips to her forehead, and her breath caught in her throat as he drew her into a slow kiss, teasing her tongue with his. "Aye," he whispered softly, gazing into her eyes. "Just imagine no pain whatsoever ― only burning hot pleasure racing through your veins."

Her fingers caught strands of his hair, and she guided him back to her for another kiss. At the forefront of her mind was the act of consummation that had happened between them ― every intimate moment of it. She had had no idea sex could be so brutally fantastic, leaving her body numb and fluid and desperate with the need for it all to occur again. The feel of him moving inside her, his heart pounding by hers as he reached her core with a fierce determination and want that triggered her own, a new sensation of possessiveness and unbridled hunger consuming her reason.

She had wanted him. He had given himself to her. In her own way, she had given herself completely to him in return.

And she wanted  _that_  as well, this emotional connection of theirs that was limitless in its power and lack of restraint.

Here, and for always.

Encouraged by this train of thought, her other hand sneaked downward, and after some hesitation, crossed the barrier of his hips and hunted the area beneath that held so much promise. His entire body stiffened immediately when she found what she had been searching for all.

"Emma darling," he rasped out, his hand stopping her from going further, "what are you doing?"

She giggled. "What does it seem like I'm doing?" She licked her lips with purpose, trying to appear as alluring as the women she had read about in the great, very explicit love stories hidden away in her parents' library. Peering at him from under her eyelashes, she purred, "I...I want to touch you, Killian. Please...let me?"

His mouth was open and inviting, and the haunted conflict in his eyes, torn between budding desire and his revived sense of propriety, gave her doubts about continuing. Then his pupils dilated, and his expression became truly lustful. After his slight nod, she tentatively stroked one fingertip along his length, warily circling about the head.

"Well, don't do it by half measures, love," he smirked darkly. "If you want to touch me, then feel free to explore me  _thoroughly_."

When her hand grasped him and pulled down to mimic their previous carnal activities, he moaned, his neck arching against the mat. "Don't stop, Emma ― don't stop," he implored, his hands seeking a stronghold. With one leg draped over his thighs, her upper torso bent over so she could be closer to him and watch his reactions, that stronghold happened to be her breasts, dipping down temptingly before his line of sight.

"Killian," she whimpered while he massaged them, eager fingers rubbing over her nipples steadily while she repeatedly caressed his cock. He was becoming hard and longer under her touch, pulsing warmth causing it to slowly erect. When she delicately ran her thumb over the tip, he cursed under his breath.

One moment she was leaning over him, the next she was sitting on his lap, his hands on her hips. His smile was downright lascivious. Emma answered in turn, giving him a mischievous smirk of her own before straddling him fully. She purposely pressed her breasts against his chest, causing him to groan.

Trailing her hands down his back at a very leisurely pace, she murmured in his ear, "What else do you know about making love, Lieutenant?"

One brow raised, he certainly matched the description of a treasure-hungry pirate, ravenously on the prowl for his prey. And she was the prize. She had never been so feverish in her life, her skin burning hot as she began to kiss along his jawline.

"I know that I never want to make love to anyone but you."

She glanced at him, wondering if he was serious. The way his gaze drifted down her body, drinking her in as he had during their first time, made her believe that he meant every word. Sincerely. Devotedly. And love was more than mere words. They both knew that.

This time, she engaged their mouths in a heated spar that ended rather abruptly when he decided to take the upper hand and kiss the hell out of her, their tongues tossing wildly. She was moaning his name when his lips climbed down the curve of her throat, nipping at her collarbone before he went even lower. He suckled her breasts with reckless abandon, making her cry out as his teeth threatened to devour her whole, and his hands kneaded her bottom frantically.

His lips sought hers again. His tongue thrust in while his hips thrust up, the two-fold friction driving her mad with an inexplicable need ― a need for him to complete her once more. This time, their coupling was more heated, rougher, bolder...despite the awkward moment when they bumped noses during one kiss, and when she lost her grip on his shoulders and landed with a mild thump on his calves.

But embarrassment would not deter them.

"Oh,  _Killian_ ," she moaned softly when he licked at the undersides of her breasts, working his way up to taste her nipples again. He seemed to be quite fascinated with that part of her, and his dedication only made her center burn more fiercely than before. Then his hand reached her thighs, and she arched her back when his fingers slipped inside her. God, he was good at this ― and getting better, all the time...

She was splayed out on her back for him, legs spread widely. His head was quickly traveling downward, leaving kisses behind until he was face to face with her most intimate place.

"What ― what are you doing?" she asked curiously, groaning as he kissed along her inner thighs.

"Hmm...I heard about this. It's another way for me to adore you." He inhaled, the tip of his nose nudging her inner lips, his stubble scratching at the sensitive skin. "I use my mouth...to make you come undone."

"Your mouth?" She made a face. "How unpleasant. And distasteful."

"Think so?" he chuckled. His smoldering grin disarmed her. "Let's find out and see."

When his tongue entered inside, plunging in and out as his length had done, Emma cried out, hips bucking up, fingers pulling at his hair while he utterly ruined her, causing her to swear loudly and scream his name to the night. Her second release was beyond glorious, and it was with much moaning that she kissed him again, thanking him wordlessly for the pleasure he had brought her. The sinful wink he gave her afterwards made her heart flutter desperately.

Then he was preparing her, parting her thighs with his knee... But she had other plans. Rolling them over, she took his cock in her hands again, stroking it before placing the tip right within her entrance. He was transfixed, his chest heaving hard.

"You took me ― and now, I'm going to take you." Her palms facedown on his chest, she lifted herself up and led him inside her, whining as he fit within. She didn't stop until he was fully sheathed, all the way to the end. But she couldn't move. Her strength was already leaving her, and she hadn't even begun.

Killian saw her predicament. With a gentle smile, he gripped her hips firmly. "I'll help you, my love," he whispered, aiding her to raise herself above him, bringing her down to him while he found his home in her.

Groaning lowly, she could feel how wet she was, how her last climax had left her longing for him. Having him do this to her felt so good, so right, so true.

But the nearer she approached the end, the weaker she became. "Killian, I need you."

When he took her on her back, he thrust in hard, rocking his hips against hers, cupping her thighs and pressing them against his waist, purposely rubbing himself along her clit. Then she was crying for him to go faster, to never stop, telling him he was extraordinary, begging him to do this again, again,  _again_ ―

"Emma," he growled out, his seed spurting inside her as she moaned his name and reached the peak of desire, her body vibrating timely under his.

They were perfect together. They really were. And now that he had marked her as his, she intended for him to be hers for quite some time.

If not forever.

That was why when he slipped out of her, about to pull her into his arms, that she stopped him.

"No." She kissed him hard, dangling her breasts in front of his face. Slowly, she descended down to rub over him, her wetness and his essence coating them both. "We're far from finished tonight, Killian. Far from finished."

His bewilderment became barely concealed delight. "Planning on ravishing me again, darling?"

She laughed when he sat upright again and placed her on top of him, nestling his sated cock between her legs already, his fingers wandering across her skin. "Oh, you have no idea."

* * *

His lips traced the swell of her breasts, one kiss overlapping another as his tongue tasted her skin. He nibbled delicately on her stiff nipples, taking his time to gorge on them as her breathing grew short and her fingertips dug into his scalp. God, she was stunning and angelic, offering herself to him day after day, night after night.

"Killian," she sighed, fidgeting slightly when he just smirked and continued to kiss her, determined to make her unfold from his touch alone.

"My lovely flower," he rasped, reveling in how her body shuddered when he nuzzled her belly. "You truly enjoy what I do to you, don't you?"

Instead of words, a low moan was torn from her throat. Grinning, he straightened, hands reaching down to palm her breasts, tantalizing curves that they were, begging for him to touch them. His knees were on either side of her, and her hands were squeezing his thighs, seeking something to hold onto.

It has been a week since they first slept together ― really, truly slept together, where he fulfilled his fantasies about her and their union to the greatest heights. And during that time, they had only stopped their insatiable desire for sex by reserving intervals for eating, drinking, resting, talking. While a storm pounded outside, rain cascading ceaselessly, cloudy skies foreboding nothing happy, they were buried within their sanctuary.

He has been taking her endlessly, memorizing every part of her marvelous body as he let his lust override any remaining scruples he might have about ravishing his love. And he had  _ravished_  her. Thoroughly. Many, many times. They awoke three times the first night for him to climb on top of her and have her writhing beneath him. Then, his morning erection aside, she had kissed him conscious in the wee hours of dawn, daring to ride him recklessly until they were screaming each other's name. The second time she had sat on his lap, he had taught her how to hold onto him while he helped her to take him in and out, her face hidden in his neck while she bounced up and down. She groped his behind, and he in turn fondled her until he could barely breathe for wanting to have her more, bodies pressed together in such an intimate embrace.

He had seen stars during his last climax, his blood raging while he emptied himself into her with a savage satisfaction that almost frightened him. True, he was a novice at all of this, as was she ― but like she, he also was a quick learner, and being taught about what gave the most pleasure to Emma was a joy to experience. Each time they had made love, he had discovered more and more. The findings were quite helpful, to say the least.

Best of all, Emma seemed to return his passionate sentiments. Now her hands were wrapped around his neck, and she was kissing him frantically, her tongue tempting his. Reciprocating gestures like these was the most natural thing in the world for him, because he had dreamed of belonging to her for years.  _Years._

Currently, the beauty he desired was asking him to do sinful things to her, her lips attached to his neck while her nipples assailed his upper chest. Fingers curled into his hair, her other hand caressing his cock, one foot teasing his calves.

"I want you," she murmured, licking at the juncture of his throat before bending her head even lower to torture his own nipples with her teeth. "How is it possible that I crave you so much? It feels like I will die if I don't have you inside me."

Smiling, he playfully pinned her wandering hands above her head. "Just know that it's possible, darling, because I feel exactly the same way." He ground his hips against hers. She thrust up, whimpering when he bent his head and suckled her breasts a third time, the tip of his tongue circling her areolae. "Such sweet mounds, love ― makes my cock so hard just thinking that only  _I_  get to take them into my mouth," he groaned. Then his voice became a licentious growl. "So soft, so round, so tender... You're absolutely  _delicious_ , Emma. Tell me I'm making you feel good. Tell me you never want me to stop."

She cried out, arching her back and her neck. He didn't hesitate to fully lower himself onto her so that there was no space left between them. "Killian..." Her eyes fluttered shut when he placed a knee between her legs. "God, you feel good. You make me feel so, so good. Never stop ― never."

When he released her arms, she immediately clasped them around him as his erection grazed her inner lips, demanding entrance. And every thrust he gave was long and thorough and deep, because he always wanted to show her how much he felt for her. Her own response was equal in measure, her mouth on his as soon his lips parted for a gasp. Bloody hell, he was intoxicated with her, hungry and desperate for her. From the way she eagerly submitted to his ministrations, his thirst was requited in every extreme.

Soon the cavern walls echoed her keening moans and his long groans, shadows mimicking how he drove into her, how she pressed back, how his fingers played with loose strands of her hair while hers tugged on the tips of his wayward locks. Her eyes were closed, heavy breaths making her chest rise and fall like a ship on undulating seas. In an instant, greedy hands reached for her beckoning breasts, now hard from arousal, and she cried out as he gently caressed them, his lips brushing over every inch of her face meanwhile.

"My beautiful Emma," he whispered hoarsely in her ear, "how do you like it? Do you like me fast and hard? Slow and tender? Or rough? God, how you have me under your thrall, darling, how much I've yearned for you. I'm at your beck and call, ready for your command. Help me to make you come."

Her eyelids fluttered, and she leaned upward to draw him into a searing kiss. "Go deeper," she replied, licking her lips, whimpering when he pulled her legs over his shoulders. "Yes, and harder. Killian,  _please_!"

Feeling himself throb madly inside her, he swallowed hard before complying with her request, grunting as he pounded into her as surely as raindrops severely pelted the stone ceiling above them. His fingers stroked her clit, and all at once, her walls clenched around him one more time before letting go.

" _Yes_ ," she screamed, an uncontrollable spasm in her pelvis making him moan loudly as she milked him, squeezing and squeezing his cock until he could no longer hold back.

Sighing in relief, Killian allowed himself to set sail on waves of pleasure as well, spilling himself within her with the vigor of a fountain. The first time they had sex, he had been so afraid he would find his release before her. Now he was stronger and better at timing himself with restraint, wanting Emma to climax with him. He would never leave her behind in anything.

"Emma," he shouted, still thrusting while his orgasm lasted.

He felt her come again, vaguely heard her pant his name. Then her lips crashed onto his, her hands firmly on his buttocks, pushing him farther inside her. He groaned while their tongues imitated their intercourse, nipping at her when one of her hands dipped down to where they were still joined.

Slowly, the culmination of their renewed lust faded. The after-effects of their mutual climb lingering, he withdrew from her, turning on his side to face her as the back of her head hit the mat, her body spread out for him like a wondrous map.

"Which round was that?" she pondered aloud, sounding quite breathless.

He chuckled. "Frankly, I've lost count." Hovering over her, he bent down to kiss her. "In total, maybe the twenty-sixth? But certainly the third tonight."

Her hand weakly whacked at his chest. "Lost count, hmm? Male pride," she teased, smiling warmly at him.

Hair clung to her face, covered with beads of sweat. Her lips were bruised red, and she looked tired, but she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. His woman. His love. And by God, he was so happy to be with her.

When he ushered her into his arms, she snuggled her face into his chest. Her hips bumped against his, and his groin growled out new heat in warning. What a woman Emma was... 

"Is this safe, though?" she murmured after a minute of silence. "We've...we've done this enough times already that I could end up... _pregnant_." Her voice was tremulous. "Mom said that the more  _memorable_  the experience, the more chances a girl has of getting pregnant."

He couldn't help it. He laughed, long and hard. Unfortunately, before he had a chance to explain why, Emma took his reaction the wrong way, and she pulled away from him.

He dragged her back to his embrace, tsking at her. "Come now, my love," he said patiently while she struggled to escape him. "Haven't you guessed the nature of this island by now, after all the weeks and months we've been here?"

Her jerks against him, which were doing unspeakable things to his crotch, stopped short. "What are you talking about?" she snapped, glaring at him.

He shrugged, taking her hand and laying the palm of it over his jawline. "Feel me. Since we've arrived, I haven't had a shave of any kind. And yet..."

Her fingertips poked at his stubble, finally rubbing at it. "And yet you don't need one." Her gaze was even greener, if that was possible. "Your...your beard...your hair's not growing―"

"And neither is yours, I take it." He huffed, trying to figure out how to ask her this next, most sensitive question. "Ahem...um...how many turns of the moon have we seen so far?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "At least three." Then those eyes widened in realization. "Oh... _oh_. My monthly..." She pursed her lips, seeming quite embarrassed by this fact. "I haven't bled for three months ― damn it, I forgot all about it!" she hissed, covering her face with her hands.

Shaking his head, he took her hands in his. A steady grin upturned the corner of his lips, and he made an effort to catch her wandering gaze. "Do you know what this means, love?" He cupped her cheek with one hand. "It means this island is frozen in time. It means that here, we don't age. It means that though we hunger...we thirst...we lust..." He lowered his lips to the valley between her breasts. "...we can fulfill our desires without consequence. It means that if you so wish it, I can make love to you at all hours of the day and night. Wherever we are. Whatever we are doing."

His teeth bit lightly down on one of her nipples, his tongue soothing it afterwards. "Which reminds me... I wonder if I can make you come undone by just worshiping your delectable breasts." His nose nudged one swell, stroking it. "Some women can orgasm through that alone."

No longer shy and diffident, Emma smirked at him, taking his hands and putting them between her thighs. "Are you going to teach me how to do that too?" she inquired, her innocent tone contradicting how she was eyeing him with pure want.

"No." His answer made her pout, but he kissed it away. "Dearest, we have all the time in the world to learn everything ―  _together_. You wait and see. Just rest now, my love," Killian vowed, coaxing her to sleep as the fire died down and the world grew dark for them both.

But his last waking thought was how right beside him was her heartbeat.

It was matching his own without fail.

* * *

Emma wrinkled her nose in dismay. "I smell."

His arms tightened around her waist, his lips branding her shoulder. "You smell lovely, Emma ― don't―"

"Killian," she whined, pushing him off. "I'm not staying in this cave another instant. I want to go outside. I stink, I have  _us_  all over my skin, and my hair's a mess!"

He stomped childishly back to their mat, looking very frustrated when he threw himself down on it. Emma hid her laugh. His display would have been more amusing if he weren't completely naked meanwhile. Instead, she felt the stirrings of arousal in her abdomen as she stared at his prominent length, the slender muscles that she loved to touch, the silky hair along his handsome body that she wanted to thread her fingers into and pull on while he―

Clearing her throat, which had suddenly gone dry, she also wet her mouth before stating, "I'm going to take a bath, now that the rain's stopped and the sun's come out."

God, he was still sulking, refusing to glance at her. So with her back turned, she tried another tactic, removing her articles of clothing that she had just put on. Then she threw her head back and started to fiddle with her hair, arranging it into a makeshift chiffon on her head.

She felt his smoldering stare long before she actually faced him again. Her hands went to outline the curves of her breasts, while she swayed her hips and walked toward him. "I didn't say you couldn't join me, though." His lips parted, his devilish tongue peeked out, and with one dark eyebrow raised, his inflamed stare was fixated on her every move. "Care to go for a swim with me, Lieutenant?" she purred, one hand trailing down to grasp his cock.

She saw the moment heat rushed to his eyes and his groin, the moment he fell for her offer and saw through it. In one adroit swoop, he had yanked her into his arms, stood up, and walked out the entrance.

"I know just the place, darling," he huskily incited, careful not to drop her.

Emma stifled a moan. She was sore, her limbs were spent, and her thighs were trembling from use. She just wanted to soak herself in warm water. But God, he was going to give her  _more_  of him and she couldn't deny him...

When she reached around and pinched his behind just to spite him, he lightly spanked hers in reprimand, the impact making other parts of her jiggle. "All in good time, my girl!" At the pace he was running, he was every bit the saucy pirate come to kidnap the princess.

And she really couldn't wait to see what happened next, because the fun was just starting.

* * *

The waterfall was just as spectacular as she remembered, a hidden oasis of natural beauty on this puzzling island. As soon as Killian emerged through the foliage, he gently placed her on the soft sand, pressing a kiss to her forehead before heading down to the shoreline to check for "probable beasties."

She had bit back a laugh and said nothing, smiling at him while he observed their surroundings with the ferocity of an animal protecting its mate.

Fire flooded her face when she realized what her mind had just concluded. Killian wasn't her "mate."  They weren't some animals in a jungle.

Propping herself up by imprinting her hands, palms down, on the moist soil, Emma tossed her head back to let the sun have more access to her neck, her body bare and exposed to the light. When she opened her eyes again, it was see her sailor approaching. When he was near enough, he dropped down to his knees and crawled over to her, parting her legs with one hand while the other clasped the back of her head and guided her into a blazing duel with his mouth. Her fingers stroked his cheeks during their kisses, fluid and gentle and wishful, and she was so taken by his power over her, mind and soul, that she couldn't recall how she had landed on her back, with Killian's face right above her abdomen. His hands held her hips firmly as he licked his way down, leaving a wet kiss here and there before he sought her inner thighs.

Seeing him fully aroused, she whimpered, but he looked up at her with a grin. "Don't worry, Emma," he calmed, fingers drumming over her bottom. "I just want to taste you."

 _God_ , how he tormented her, his tongue tracing circles around her lips. When he sucked on her clit, she struggled to brace herself against the upcoming onslaught. The nearest object of interest was his shoulder-length hair, dotted with sand here and there from her fingertips, distracting her to madness as it curled over his eyes and obscured her view of his expression. He would look so alluring with shorter hair too, she fantasized.

Then those perfect lips of his were passionately kissing her inner folds, his nimble tongue parting them to dive within. When his softness touched her walls, she sobbed, thrusting her hips upward toward his face. "You'll be the death of me," she moaned, feeling her nipples tighten painfully as he practically fucked her raw with his mouth.

In response, he only growled onto her, which caused her senses to erupt from pleasure and anticipation. "Oh, Emma," he hissed, "this is so hard to resist. I only see you, gorgeous and tangled for me, and I feel like I must have you. Let me have you, darling. Give yourself to me."

Coming down from on high, she tried to slow down her breathing and clear her glazed vision. The sight of him, her wetness dripping down his chin and smeared across his stubbled jaw, the blue in his irises drowned by widening black, a devious smile on his glistening lips as he licked them clean, teeth glinting at her with a distinctly feral edge ― it was too much for her. Another orgasm spun her into dizziness, his name in her throat.

"Oh,  _Killian_ ," she exclaimed, her head hitting the sand. Her bones were liquid now, limbs tingling from  _him_. "What on earth have you done to me?"

His fingers brushed over her slit. "Nothing yet, my dear," he rasped seductively.

She gasped at his boldness. "Who the hell are you, and what have you done with Lieutenant Jones?" Her heart was still pounding from exertion.

"Well, he fell in love with a woman named Princess Emma, and he's never been the same since," he replied lowly, searching her gaze. She registered the worth of his words, how he had just admitted―

Unable to voice how every fiber of her being leapt up at his confession, that she knew from how he spoke that he was telling the truth, that she wanted nothing more than to declare her own feelings for him, Emma nervously settled for watching the way his erection thickened.

"You seem to have a growing problem," she sassed, nodding toward his nether regions.

He peered down, and, for the first time since they had made love, he blushed scarlet. "Oh...well, I'll let you get on with your bathing, lass, and then I'll go and take care of this myself." He didn't meet her eye, and his voice sounded very small and ashamed. "I'm sure you're aware of how men pleasure themselves when lacking a woman's touch."

Looking at him whetted her appetite. "Or..." She crawled up to him, dragging her legs in the dirt. " _I_  could help you." Placing her hands on top of his thighs, she gave him one last scorching look before lowering her mouth to his length.

Ignoring his initial protests, her tongue ravenously laved his cock. Then she suckled the tip, grazing the head as well. Killian groaned, embedding his fingers in her hair. From what she had read in many books, he would enjoy this immensely. Especially if she took all of him into her mouth, took control...

Hollowing her cheeks, she sucked on him hard, her fingers gently massaging him meanwhile. Soon, tentatively, he began to thrust into her, gripping her head. In turn, she encouraged his wild reactions, reveling in how he cried out when she swallowed him in farther and let her teeth drag down his length. Her insides contracted at the feel of him, how he filled her completely, long and thick and hard...

"Emma ― _bloody hell_ , that's  _magnificent_  ― I'm going to―" He bit down hard on his bottom lip. "If you don't stop, my seed will run down your throat ― I can't hold back anymore―"

"Then don't," she hummed, her hands traveling down to wantonly squeeze his bottom.

He grunted in reply, pistoning his hips, and then he poured into her mouth with a shout. "Bloody damnation, Emma _._ " Slowly, he withdrew his cock, falling flat on his back and stretching out his arms and legs. "Thank you," he said in a half-whisper.

She lapped up whatever remained of his semen, making a note of the queer taste. "See, I told you I'd be of assistance," she giggled, lying down next to him. "Now, are you ready for that swim you promised?"

Sighing deeply, scanning the sky, he snorted at her suggestion. "Love, if I went into the water now, I'd probably drown. My legs are akin to blocks of wood."

She smirked at him. "I was that good, hmm?"

He rolled over, watching her intently. "It's not just the sex that's bloody marvelous, Emma ― it's  _you_. It's always been you. I...I meant what I said, before. I've loved you for such a long time, darling," he quietly emphasized.

Aching to kiss him, she leaned in until their lips touched, innocently and sweetly in contrast to what they had both just done to each other. "I know," she whispered, resting her chin on his shoulder. "I can feel it when we're together."

A smile broke across her face as she remembered how he had made her laugh during his escorts around the palace garden. How her father had once told her that he considered Liam and Killian to be like sons to him. How her mother had been pushing her towards this dashing young soldier all along. How being without him for two years had hurt. How being with him now was addictive and fulfilling beyond words.

Snow White had been a bandit. David had been a shepherd. She was the princess who had never had any childhood playmates, because who would dare to be with royalty? Then Killian had come along, bashful and thoughtful and God, so  _ardent_. Love seemed to be the pinnacle of his life, and he scaled untold heights of tribulation with devotion and fervor. She had admired that from the beginning, from the instant they met.

He had become her friend. She had made herself his enemy. Now, he was her lover. But she was always his  _love_.

Without a doubt, he was her love too. Why else would his departure have created such heartbreak for her?

"I'm the product of true love, you know, and so is my little brother." He glanced at her inquiringly. "My parents... Rumplestiltskin even made a love potion from their hair." She shrugged, worming her bottom lip between her teeth when Killian still looked nonplussed. "I've...I've always imagined that when I'd love someone, it would be unbreakable. Powerful. A connection as strong as Mom and Dad's."

His face fell. "Emma, you don't have to explain―"

She silenced him with another kiss. " _Wait_. When I'm with you, I feel...  _more_. This bond we have ― it's so much greater than I ever believed possible for anyone." Running her fingers through his hair, she murmured, "Sometimes, it seems like we were born to be  _us_ , not  _you_  or  _me_. I can't break away from you, Killian. Moreover, I don't want to. And...this...this is how I know."

"What, sweetheart?" he implored, caressing her jawline with his knuckles.

Emma drew him up to her, so that they were sitting right in front of each other. A bout of shyness washed over her, so she peered downward at their intertwined hands. "This is how I know that I'm in love with you as well."

His eyes were shining, making her warm all over. "You don't need to say it because I did, Emma."

"I'm not. Killian, I'm saying I love you ―  _I love you_."

He still appeared utterly dejected, despite her declaration. "It's alright, lass ― we're on an island, and you've been separated from your family for too long. Being alone... It can make you―"

She inhaled his next words, showing him instead of merely telling him of her affections. As her lips enveloped his, her tongue slipped inside, savoring him. And Emma gave him more than one kiss, loving his mouth tenderly and resiliently, her hands at the nape of his neck. When they finally broke apart, his forehead was leaning against hers, and he was smiling.

"You...you truly love me?" His fingers curled through one of her locks.

Her eyelashes fluttered helplessly. " _Yes_  ― yes, I  _do_. I need you, Killian," she breathed against his lips. "I need you here, with me. It has nothing to do with being stuck on this silly island. My home ― it's yours. My family is yours.  _I_  am yours."

He stood up, offering her his hand. She too rose, taking it.

"Come..." he whispered. The water was temperate and soothing and welcoming, so she slunk into its depths without hesitation, following him. Submerged up to his waist, he led her into his embrace, twirling her around. "Come, and make me yours again..."

Emma sighed in his arms, staying close. It was moments like these, genuine and honest and moving, that mattered most.

Because it was wonderful to love and be loved.

* * *

" _I pray you'll find them, Captain Jones."_

Sighing, Liam settled his hands on the railing of the bow, staring straight ahead at the empty sea. His brother was out there somewhere, and so was Princess Emma.

He had searched the surrounding waters for a week after their disappearance from the  _Jewel_  during the storm, but had found naught. Assuming that the sudden deluge had not been nature's doing, he had turned back and set out for their original destination: King David and Queen Snow's kingdom.

Of course, Emma's parents were terribly distraught on hearing that she had gone missing. They had first sympathized with him before organizing a vast search for a magical solution that would end their mutual problem. And Liam had been elected the leader of that expedition.

Though Her Majesty had pleaded with him not to, the King had insisted on joining Liam as they embarked on a voyage to Rumplestiltskin's domain. Known for his powers of prediction and his obsession with all things magical, he had slyly suggested that the place they needed to find was beyond even a great wizard's reach, being imbued with magic and protected by a shield of light that was lifted for only those who were chosen. No, what they needed was a magical object, something that could point towards what was once lost.

In other words, wherever Killian and Emma were, it would take more than a spyglass and a sextant to reach them. Facing a mysterious island that seemed to carry a life of its own, where there could be unknown horrors... David ― as he repeatedly insisted Liam address him since the very first day they'd met ― had outright refused to let him go alone to climb some damn beanstalk, where bloodthirsty giants roamed the sky.

Or, as they had found out,  _not_  so bloodthirsty. Anton had been furious, vengeful, and frankly, quite a bear of a man, but contrary to legend, he had no cannibalistic tendencies. Still, despite this fixed attitude, David knew how to reason with him, appeasing the giant when he thought he resembled one James (apparently, the King once had a twin brother who was quite an arse), wrestling with his doubts, arguing. Liam had sat down on a heap of gold coins and had nearly fallen asleep.

But Anton had listened, and slowly, told them his story. The true story. The tale of those that were unjustly vanquished. After several more hours of lengthy conversation, David had convinced the giant to come down from his lonely seclusion and be with them in the Enchanted Forest. Though Anton had protested, the King had gone down on one knee and solemnly vowed to protect him, to ensure he was treated honorably and with respect, and to grant him a way to both venerate his late kingdom and find a home with them below in Snow's.

It was one of most touching and, dare he say,  _knightly_  scenes Liam had ever had the privilege of witnessing. At the time, he had immediately been proud and relieved that he had found such a king to pledge allegiance to. A humble and caring monarch, who loved his family and his people more than himself. If only he and Killian had been born in this realm, perhaps there would not have been so much pain in their lives.

David's courage and loyalty made Liam admire him all the more. He was, without a doubt, the father both of the Jones boys had never had.

Needless to say, Anton had offered both of them a "ride" of sorts instead of the long climb down, and once back on  _terra firma_ , the King had also promised to help him be human-sized again, if the giant so wished. As for the beanstalk, it was to be left alone.

Though Liam had been skeptical, the former Queen Regent, Regina, had helped them. Now Anton had only to wish upon his memoir of a necklace ― a dried up magical bean that had once been a reminder of sorrow but now was a piece of hope ― and the permanent enchantment would grant him the ease of being a normal man's height or as tall as the highest trees. David gave him a spot at court, encouraging more research on the power of magic beans. Like an eager gardener, Anton had happily applied himself to the task. When he met Snow White and little Neal, he had been clearly awestruck. His speechless reaction to the lady's natural kindness had made Liam smile.

When the giant had gladly donated his treasure hoard to the King and Queen, saying as his excuse that the monuments of his family's history were getting clouded with unneeded dust, they had found what they had been looking for all along.

A way to get the Princess back.

A way to find Killian's location.

A way to stop this nonsense.

The King and Queen wanted their daughter, and Liam wanted his brother. Finally, with the  _Jewel_  as his guide, he would find them both. He was on his own again, but thanks to David's assurance, he felt like the man was right beside him, encouraging him on despite being absent from present company.

The object desired was currently in his right hand, warming his palm, golden and shining like a star when exposed to light. The arrow within was absolutely still ― until the look-out in the crow's nest pointed out that they were at the exact coordinates Rumplestiltskin had given David.

The moment the bow of the ship crossed this point, the arrow began to spin. Wildly. And out of control.

And then...

_Bloody perfect. I'm coming for you, little brother._

"Take heed, men," he shouted to the crew, loud and clear, "we have our new heading!" Now that damn riddle-maker's words were making sense. According to many mystical maps Liam had had the opportunity to see, he knew exactly which course to take. An interesting development indeed, one that made this a regular adventure.

He grinned widely, eyes flickering to the stars for assurance. "Next stop, _Treasure Island_!"

* * *

Killian couldn't help it. Not one bloody bit. He wasn't even thinking about his brother, or her kingdom, or his own duty to the royal family, or missing the lure of the sea. Being alone with Emma did things to him, and though his mind should be on other matters...other more important matters...

_Her tongue swept through his mouth again. Clawing through yet another pleasure-induced haze, he took hold of his senses and gave back as good as he received. His hands slowly crept upward to cup her sumptuous, exquisite breasts, thumbs rubbing at her erect nipples. When she moaned, tossing her head back so he could kiss down her neck... Damn it, how quickly he had hardened, already pulsing and burning._

_All he wanted was more of Emma ― more, more, more. After all, they belonged to each other._

" _Yes, love me," she crooned, her sultry tone making him groan from desire. She was no longer the innocent virgin princess, and he was no longer an untouchable virgin of a lieutenant. "I want to feel you all over me, Killian." She teased his nipples with her teeth. "Those hands of yours...I dream about them at night ― dream about what they can do to me. And your mouth..." She strengthened her point by sucking on his bottom lip. "The way you move your tongue inside me, on me, on my skin..."_

_His own insides were on the verge of exploding. He saw red ― red, for lust ― when Emma started to run one hand down his cock, gripping it possessively. Determined to get even, he plunged two of his fingers in her wet heat, pulling them in and out in a familiar rhythm. She nearly staggered against him, crying out his name, cupping his erection in her hands as if she treasured it._

_He treasured her. Goddamn it, he would show her how much he treasured her. Grasping her thighs, he lifted her up and pressed her back against the cavern wall, a low hiss escaping her lips at the impact of cool stone versus heated flesh. But she didn't falter for a moment. She swung her legs around his waist, balancing herself, and pushed her body closer to him, raking her nails down his back. Her ready center beckoned him in the most primal of ways._

_In revenge, he kissed her furiously, ignoring her soft moans as he took what he wanted, quickening the pace of his intrusive fingers, using his other hand to snake upward until he was groping one of her breasts, rubbing its nipple between his fingertips. He wanted all of her ― here, today, tomorrow, forever._

_Though Emma begged for him to take her, guiding him inside her when he continued to torment her, Killian decided to slow down their love-making, dipping into her leisurely, exploring her. Her thighs curled around him, and she was almost sobbing as he lengthened their connection, refusing to bring her to climax._

" _Not yet," he whispered. "Not yet, my Emma."_

_Her back arched, and her hands wrapped around his neck as if it were her anchor. "You can't leave me like this," she cried, rolling her hips against his in order to speed him up. "You're driving me mad."_

_He could feel that nameless, animalistic urge to possess her completely darken his mind._

_"I'm driving you mad?" he purred. He yanked her off the wall and carried her over to their mat, lowering her on top of it without breaking their union. She yelped. "You drive me mad," he growled in her ear, seeing red again. "When you clothe yourself in that devilish outfit of yours, you deprive me of seeing your lovely form, so I cannot wait to get those flimsy garments off of you. Seeing you bare makes me want to fuck you every minute of every day, because I can't get enough of you, Emma. There will never be enough of you and me, together like this."_

_Emma mewed desperately, gazing at him with wide green eyes. She looked breathtaking, so spent and wrecked because of him. "When I see you bare, I ― I want you to ― to take me. To...to fuck me." She murmured right into his ear, "I want you to have me, again and again and again. I love your body, the way it fits with mine, the way it feels under my hands. I love you―"_

_He swallowed her utterance, entangling his tongue with hers. Then he lunged._

_The warmth of her, contracting around him... Killian drew out and thrust back in forcefully. Following his lead, Emma raised her hips up in time, accustoming herself to him. They had never had sex this roughly before. He was relentless in his pursuit, and so was she. Both seeking their release, neither giving in halfway. Midway through, Emma was a vixen, adeptly rolling them over so she could be the one on top._

_Her hands immediately ran over his chest, touching him wantonly until she was ready to move, taking him down with her. Killian closed his eyes and licked his lips. This was far better than any of his midnight fantasies or his daytime dreams. No sheets or pillows or anything obstructing his view of pure, beautiful woman. Making love to Emma for real was fucking flawless in every way._

_A series of lustful moans later, all etched with his name, he was again in control, mercilessly finishing her off, thrusting harder and harder until the axis of the world seemed bloody tilted._

_Shaking and panting, she came with a loud scream._

_He groaned lowly as he burst within her, enjoying one of the most violent, profound orgasms he'd had so far._

"Killian," sang Emma's voice, knocking him out of his wistful musing. "What's taking you so long?"

When he blinked wearily at her, she giggled, the sound adorably bubbly, before diving underwater, leaving a gigantic splash behind, her toes the last to go after they had wiggled teasingly at him.

At first he didn't understand why he was where he was, leaning against the far side of the lake. Had he fallen asleep? He was so tired, he felt sore between his legs, though nothing had―

Killian's eyes shot open, and he jolted, losing his balance on the lakebed. Sputtering wildly and wiping away soaked hair from his line of sight, he rubbed at his face when he resurfaced, trying to put the pieces together. Apparently, he had just had a  _wet dream_ , as they called it ― though he hadn't had one for years. Ironically, he was already wet, being in the water, and it seemed that instead of being left aroused, he had actually ejaculated during the culmination of the lurid images. Images that were in fact memories. Very  _enjoyable_  memories.

These riveting sexual trysts with Emma were getting him into trouble.

"Why, hello there." The siren of his life sprang upward right in front of him, a shower of water hitting his eyes from the impact.

"Emma," he swore, his fingers immediately trying to soothe the sting. He heard her cluck at him, but he kept his hands firmly over his eyelids.

"Oh Killian, I'm sorry.  Here, let me see..." She tried to pry his hands away, but he stubbornly didn't want to, and his lips formed into a pout of their own accord.

"Let me alone," he demanded, turning away. He didn't want her to look at him when he was in pain. His father had always scolded him when he had cried or even complained as a boy, after he'd done something wrong or gotten beaten by the other children. _Showing your pain is showing weakness._

The water shuffled, as if she were striding through it, and then he felt soft kisses rain down on his shoulders. Then the palm of her hands slid across to wrap around his waist. God above, she was holding him _..._

"Loving you means loving all of you, even the parts of you that you don't want me to know," she said softly, lowering her lips to his spine.

This time, instead of mere heat racing to his groin, he felt his heart radiate. Turning around, he took her face in his hands, mesmerized. "You're so good to me, Emma," he breathed against her forehead, letting his mouth descend until it reached hers. She gasped into the kiss, and when he deepened it, she raised herself up to better taste him.

"You're better, Killian ― I still can't believe you waited for me this long, even when I didn't want to give you a chance," she replied, snuggling into him. The shape of her breasts were engraved on his chest, and he nearly choked on a spark of longing.

 _It was now or never._ "Did you ― did you ever think of...considering another, love?"

"Considering...another suitor, you mean?" She raised a brow at him. Hurt at not hearing her quick denial, Killian tried to walk past her. Emma grabbed his arm, stopping him. "It wasn't like that," she explained gently. "Of course my parents wanted me to have suitors, but for all the right reasons ― so I'd meet as many men as possible, and find out what it was _I_  wanted for  _myself_. It was never about alliances or crowns or kingdoms." Her cheeks were flushed. "Somehow, an irritating sailor never left my head, in spite of how hard I tried to expel him."

He grinned happily. "Ah, so you did fancy me?"

Laughing, she swatted at him playfully. "Don't let it get to your head."

Fingers entwined, they waded through until it was too deep to stand.

It was like being frolicking children again, the way they played in the water, sexual tension be damned. After much gliding, thrashing, and splashing, both were thoroughly wet again, Emma's golden hair as slicked back as Killian's dark locks were. She had thrown water at him, sneaked up on him from underneath, and tugged on various parts of him until he surrendered from sheer exasperation.

But then she sucked on her bottom lip, where droplets of water had resided, and his mouth went dry.

"Waterfall?" he offered hoarsely, pointing to the wonder of nature not far behind her. This was where he had revealed his feelings to her for the first time. Where they had almost made love. Well, he wanted to pick up where they had left off, and perhaps she did as well. Sex in the water couldn't be that difficult to manage, now could it?

She bobbed up and down, her breasts peeking above the water level. Her nipples were covered with droplets as well. All Killian could think about was whether the water would taste more like water or more like Emma when he licked those splendid beads of flesh dry.  _Lord have mercy._

"Of course," she agreed. Then she looked at him from under her eyelashes. "I think there's a small grotto hidden behind it. Maybe we can..." She ran her fingers through her hair, tossing her head back so that he had a better view of her chest. Bloody minx. "... _explore_  it together.  _Very_  thoroughly." Crooking an eyebrow, she gave him what could only be a seductive smirk before swimming off toward the cascade. Ah, so she was thinking about the same thing he was―

On seeing the pert cheeks of her bottom flash at him enticingly, Killian groaned in frustration before following, his limbs tearing through the lake as he sped after her.

_Let the games begin._


	4. Part IV - Lost in Paradise

  _Something was teasing the corner of his mouth. The lightest touch, grazing the outline of his lips._

_He smiled. "Good morning to you, too, beautiful."_

_Emma giggled. When he cracked open one eye, she was resting her chin on her hands, leaning on his shoulder and grinning at him. "Did you have a good sleep?"_

" _The best." Slowly, he became very aware of the fact that she was pressed against him. Though he shouldn't be so bloody surprised ― after all, they rarely wore their clothes to bed. No point when they were just going to undress each other anyhow. "Though they do say it's even better to start the morning with exercise," he smirked._

" _Oh?" The look in her eyes was far from innocent, despite what that sweet mouth was saying. "You want to go for a walk this early?"_

" _Hmm, a different kind of walk." As quick as he could, he rolled them over, pinning her beneath him. Taking her hand in his, he guided it to cup his growing erection. "Think you could handle a quick run, darling?"_

_She chewed on her bottom lip. "You know, you're being a typical man right now."_

" _Typical? Well, if by that you mean devilishly handsome and quite enamored with the gorgeous woman underneath him..." He took a moment to gaze at the soft curves of her breasts, the line of her neck as it arched. "Then yes, I'm very typical. Though I prefer the word 'insatiable'."_

_One of her eyebrows went up, enhancing her warm smile. "You can't blame me for saying it. After all, we were occupied all night long. One would think you'd be tired of me by now."_

" _Tired? Of you?" Killian stroked her cheek. He loved how she glowed when she was happy. "Impossible. I could never tire of someone I feel for so deeply."_

" _Someone?" she laughed. The motion made her breasts bounce. "Are there some other women I don't know about, Lieutenant?"_

_He grumbled under his breath before leaning down and crashing his lips onto hers. She moaned underneath him, tightening her grip on his upper arms._

_"Bloody hell, Emma," he growled into her neck, nipping at it, "you know I want no one else but you. Stop teasing me."_

_Her lips curved into another smile ― a rather mischievous one. "I'm not teasing," she said, tossing her hair. "Just waiting for you to listen."_

" _Don't I always?"_

_She fluttered her eyelashes at him. "You never did tell me," she crooned, trailing a finger down his chest, "where exactly you obtained your fine knowledge of bedtime activities."_

_He could feel his face getting hot, especially as her hand descended to his nether regions. "I thought we'd already discussed this, love."_

_Emma pouted. Her fingertips were grazing his shaft so enticingly. "I want details."_

" _Details?" He gulped. "Well...I, uh...I suppose...I sneaked into enough bookshops, while off duty. For the right price, the shopkeeper was willing to direct me to what I was looking for ― discreetly, of course."_

" _Why?"_

_He scratched at the back of his ear. "Why did he direct me―?"_

" _No ― why were you looking?" Her eyes were sparkling._

_Now his cheeks were burning, and no doubt his entire bloody face was bright red by now. It had been so hard to keep those particular books out of Liam's sight on the ship._

_"_ _Um..." he sputtered. "Well...there were several reasons..."_

" _Curiosity? Fascination?" She crooked an eyebrow. "Or maybe you needed help fantasizing?"_

" _Perhaps." He was rather proud of how quickly he caught on to her little game. "Sounds like the lady is seeking suggestions."_

" _Offering, not seeking."_

" _Oh?" Killian was flustered and bemused. "And just why was the royal princess indulging in such thoughts, hmm? You were so very young at the time."_

_She bit down on her lip. "Does it matter?"_

_Leaning down, he placed a kiss on her shoulder. "In case you haven't noticed, love, everything about you matters to me."_

_Her cheeks bloomed red, and she ducked her head._ _Satisfaction at last_ _, Killian crowed to himself._

_"Well...the first time...it was just too tempting to be disobedient." Her eyes were dancing. "Then I met you. And I started daydreaming."_

" _Sounds familiar," he grinned. "Did these dreams include either of us naked?"_

" _Killian!"_

" _Aye, darling? Do you deny that you were thinking of me in less than holy ways?"_

_The harder Emma tried to look scandalized, the more she flushed, strengthening his current resolve to stop mincing with words and just bury himself in her. Her skin was just the shade it always was right after they had sex, a soft reddish pink that extended to the parts of her that were more off-white than bronzed. Bloody hell, he wanted those thighs wrapped around his head while his tongue thrust inside her―_

_His lass was already squirming and grumbling under her breath. Ah, he didn't want to goad her on further. Shuffling, he eyed her expectantly, ready for her next move. "You really aren't going to share some of those secret desires with me?"_

_She groaned. "There was a scene, in one of the books I read. Where the man...well...it's probably better that I show you."_

_He lay back, cursing under his breath when she climbed on top of him. When Emma rubbed his cock, slowly but firmly, she had the most amused expression on her face. He was a bit confused by that, until she started to talk him through her handiwork._

" _God, this is amazing. The skin's so smooth...and yet...oh, you're so hard. So thick. So long." She gave his length a gentle squeeze. His exhales were ragged. "I want to see you come undone, Killian. I want to watch as I pleasure you." She bent down until she was purring in his ear. Her strokes increased. "Taking you into my mouth was one of the most sensual, provocative experiences of my whole life. But now..." She stretched above him, giving him a full view of her upper body. "Here's another opportunity."_

_In this state, so near the edge, it wouldn't take him long to― Killian whimpered when she slipped an engorged nipple into his open mouth. Unable to resist, he licked at it slowly._

_"Oh," she moaned, "oh yes, Killian."_

_While he suckled, her fingers delved into his hair, supporting the nape of his neck, holding him to her. "Emma," he grunted while milking her. His teeth grazed over the taut bud, and she moaned even louder. "What is it you want me to do?"_

_He cupped her breasts reverently, caressing the sides with his thumbs. The soft peaks were hardening in his hands, evidence of how much he affected her._

_Her reply was to yank on his cock._

_He couldn't even give her full warning, bite back the urge ― do anything at all but watch helplessly as his erection gave way and he poured himself over her with a shout, his cum covering her chest and dripping down to her thighs. Goddamn it, he had such bad self-control, was such a bloody fool―_

_She threw her head back before her body went limp and fell on top of him._

_Panic struck his core. He was nearly shaking as he sat upright and grabbed her arms, willing her to please, please bloody move. "Emma ― Emma, sweetheart―"_

" _Hmm?" She licked her lips, eyelashes fluttering as her eyes opened. Then she looked down. "Oh."_

" _Oh? That's it?" he hissed. "Tell me if you're alright, by God ― I'm so sorry, lass, I never meant to―"_

" _No, it's okay," she protested. Tentatively, she dipped a finger in his cum, smearing it further over her breasts as she twirled the tip. It was almost as if she was― "Wow, they were right.  This is fantastic..."_

" _Fantastic_ _?" He was bloody incredulous. "Not the word I'd use to describe how I just spurted all over you, like some boy unable to hold back himself back ― more like bloody embarrassing," he huffed._

" _Killian." She swept back hair that had gotten into his eyes. "You don't see it, do you?"_

" _See what?" Still fuming, he growled between his teeth._

_Taking one drenched fingertip, her lips parted and swallowed it, making the most sinful noises he'd ever heard from it as she sucked on him. "I just wanted to have another taste of you. God, you are so fucking delicious," she hummed._

_Those two words. He swallowed hard. "That's what you wanted? For me to come all over you? This aroused you?"_

_She stared defiantly at him. "Didn't you enjoy yourself too?"_

_A smirk crossed his lips. Come to think of it, it was quite erotic, seeing his lass marked like that, drenched in his essence. But there was only he and she on this damn island. Things like silly possessiveness had no relevance or consequence. Then again, they also held no shame._

_"_ _I plan to, my lovely, wanton princess," he vowed._

_In an instant, he had her beneath him, gasping and whimpering and writhing. Then he pulled her thighs wide apart, lowering himself until he was face to face with her wet folds. He quickly flicked his tongue inside her gaping entrance, her cunt stretched and ready for him. She dug her fingers into the mat, crying out his name. When he did it again, her hips rocked upward and her heels scraped against rock._

_She rutted against his mouth like one possessed, which only helped him to thrust thoroughly inside. His lips latched onto hers while his tongue pivoted, circling her walls and dipping deeply within. Emma was thrashing from side to side, sobbing out for mercy, for providence, for kingdom come ― for him. Her moans filled the cave, waves of pleasure to his ears. Her back arched when his teeth scraped over her clit. Then her sweet cum finally reached his mouth, trickling down his throat._

_Oh, this was going to be a very interesting morning, make no mistake._

* * *

"Are you certain you're not a mermaid?" he teased, encircling her with his arms.

Chuckling, she leaned down to kiss him, while her stomach pressed harder against his ribs. "You should know the difference by now, sailor." Catching his tongue between her teeth, she sucked on the tip of it while her legs deftly wound around his waist, pulling him closer.

Sitting above Killian, thighs spread over water-hewed rock as she towered over him...  The whole experience made Emma feel powerful, but it was he who made her feel beautiful. Even the way he smiled at her, with so much hope and longing, caused her heart to run off without her, no doubt joining his.

Running her fingers through his wet hair, she asked as he attacked her neck, "Killian?"

"Hmm?" His parted lips glided over her shoulder, warm mouth drinking in the water dancing over her skin. Of course she couldn't help the little whimpers and moans that trickled out of her mouth as her lover lavished her skin with the artistry of his tongue.

She gasped when he nipped at the juncture of her neck, giving her a rather prominent love bite. "Have you ever thought of cutting your hair?"

He didn't even pause to think through her question. "I always have it trimmed every few months or so ― when Liam orders us to dock at a nearby port, mostly."

"I meant, shorter. As in, no need for a queue."

Her comment made him stop right in the middle of what he was doing, which happened to his lips descending rapidly down her chest until they were in the valley between her breasts. "You want me to cut my hair?" he replied sharply. "What's wrong with it as it is?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, trying to backtrack. By the way his jaw was clenching, he hadn't taken her suggestion as a compliment.

"I should have known," Killian mumbled under his breath, disengaging himself from her.

She focused on his voice, felt her insides weaken at the sound of it. He was doubting himself, doubting  _her_  ― she was sure of it. Too many memories and too many ambitions flooding in, all because she had suggested one change that reminded him of the past. How could she have been so stupid, so rash? Only high ranking officials in the Royal Navy had their hair short.  Captains, like his brother.

Instinctively, her body reacted for her before her mind could. In one fluid motion, she jumped down from her seat on the dripping rock and wrapped her legs around his waist, forcing him to carry her in his arms.  His foothold on the ground fumbled, and he tried to steady himself in the water.

"Killian Jones, I'm only going to say this once, so listen carefully," she said between gritted teeth, gripping his shoulders for emphasis. "From top to bottom, you're absolutely perfect in every way, and by God, you're all  _mine_." Readying herself, she stretched her thighs and guided his cock inside her, grinding down experimentally as her inner heat surrounded him.

What happened next became a blur. The rush of the waterfall, the thrill of having him all to herself in such an erotic setting...  It was overwhelming and arousing and so wickedly liberating. Killian was grunting into her neck, his thrusts frenzied and erratic while he walked backward, nearly beneath the overhead cascade. From the way his fingers dug into her sides, his mouth rabidly marking her chest, it was hard to believe that this man had been  _virginal_ , that just little over a week ago he had never known what it was like to bed a woman.

Well, he surely knew now. God, she had never thought making love could be like this―

"Oh,  _oh_  ― yes ― yes, right there!" she cried out, gasping when he suddenly slipped and they both tumbled underneath the powerful downpour.

Not only was he still pulsing inside her, she was also still clenching about him.  Neither of them was willing to let go of their connection, despite the fact that they were being literally drenched by gallons and gallons of violent water. What was worse was that her weight was dragging him downward.  In her panic, she started to thrash, her instincts forgotten in the face of fear. Her hair was now in her eyes. With her arms waving about and out of control, she couldn't see a thing.

"Lass, hold on ― I've got you!" she heard him shout.

Clinging to him, arms wrapped around his neck, she allowed him to pull her back under the cascade, kicking with all her might as they swam together to fight their way back to the grotto and escape the undertow. The instant her body met solid rock, Killian was pulling out of her, lifting himself up, and then helping her onto the surface as well. Shaking hair out of eyes, he was gazing at her with concern as she shivered.

* * *

She could have drowned. There had been no warning, no moment to inhale deeply before she'd gone under. Remembering how she'd fallen into the castle lake when she was five, unafraid and reckless after she rode her pony for the first time, Emma felt her limbs begin to shake, helpless to stop it.

"Relax, my love ― you're safe. You're alright," her lieutenant comforted, gathering her into his arms.

Her fingers dug into the matted hair on his chest, and she fiercely pressed herself into him, seeking warmth. Her thighs were still aching with want, unsatisfied desire making her muscles tense and frustrated. Judging by his hard length rubbing against her abdomen, Killian too was unhappy about being interrupted by this untimely accident. But he didn't show it. He was completely focused on her well-being.

When she continued to shudder, desperately trying to calm herself down, he stroked her back, laying her down on the cool edge of the small pool. Her legs were dangling underwater.

"Emma..." he murmured, carding his fingers through the wet strands of her hair. "I wouldn't have let anything happen to you. I promise you that."

In answer, she pressed a kiss to his chest, hoping he would feel her weak smile.

For what she felt was a long while, they just lay there. Her restless hands explored how his muscles were hard where hers were soft, how the smooth contours of his body enveloped her own. When her touch dipped downward onto the taut lines of his stomach, he inhaled sharply, but made no reproach.

Instead, he continued to play with the curls at the nape of her neck, his other hand tracing her curves. Roughened fingertips gently caressed up and down, left to right and back again. It became rhythmic, the intimacy of their embrace drawing Emma out of a sedated sense of relief and into a renewed ache for him. As always, he demanded nothing from her, letting her dictate the pace. And she loved him for it.

Lithely, she pulled herself up on her knees. Seeing Killian spread out beneath her, the splendor of him beckoning to her and her alone...  It only made her more determined than ever. He loved her, he clearly desired her, and he was naked. Her feelings were identical. She was ready to have him again.

"Come back to me?" she whispered, tongue darting out to moisten her lips. Hearing the words aloud only made her more aroused.

His eyes darkened as he complied, kneeling in front of her. When she lowered her head, it was to reach his chest with her mouth, teeth grazing wet skin while she pressed kiss after kiss to the build of his physique, eagerly tasting him at every opportunity while she sucked in the sheen of water. His answering moans caused her thighs to clench.

Naturally, his hands lost no time in seeking out his favorite parts of her. They first cupped her bottom before rising up her sides to tease her breasts with his thumbs. She could feel how her nipples tightened for him, how the heat in her groin surged frantically when he began to nibble on her neck, taking advantage of their closeness to press his lower half against hers. Then his mouth met hers in a fervent kiss, his hands on her cheeks.

Instinctively, she knew that this would be slow, that he would take his time with her until she would be entirely at his mercy, wanting him for longer than a day and a night.  God, the way he was descending down her shoulder with every lick of his tongue was driving her mad―

"My Emma," he breathed out, his inflamed gaze meeting her own while he kissed down her cleavage. There was a teasing glint in those eyes she loved so much, framed by so much innocence in his face. All colored by his desire for her. The thought of this did things to her and made her feel unspeakable things.

When his nose rubbed over the swell of one breast, then the other, he gave her a devilish smirk, his hands keeping her hips in place. "Shall I?"

The world was spinning when he treated her breasts to a testament of his affection, sure to especially remember the hardened peaks as his tongue flicked in and out, around and around until he had marked the tender flesh with his very essence, leaving behind redness from the scratch of his beard.

When he stopped, she gripped his hair more tightly, encouraging him to continue. "More," she whined. "Please,  _more_."

He smiled over her heart before he repeated his ministrations even more passionately than before. His hands were massaging the cheeks of her behind, squeezing them in time to when he suckled, pointedly tucking her nipples into his mouth, one at a time, in order to heighten the sensation. The way he lingered, his lips milking her breasts so slowly and yet so enthusiastically, made her throb vigorously inside. She wasn't ashamed at all to be crying out his name, pleading for more and more and more of this utterly addictive, utterly wicked pleasure.

Emma gasped as her arousal became frenzied, growing stronger and stronger until she came with a shout of his name, her arms clasped around him. His face was still buried in her breasts while she rode out her orgasm, his mouth working her further.

Afterwards, when the high of her pleasure had subsided, his fingers curled between her thighs, making her yelp when they dipped inside and sought out her sweet spots, rubbing at them until she was coming again. When he removed his fingers, the tips were dripping wet. Killian sucked on them greedily, making such a show of it that Emma flushed.

"It seems I'm far from done with you," he said with a groan, winking at her.  Her chuckles were cut off when he swooped in and claimed her lips with his.

Emma lost restraint. Her hips rocked against his when she deepened their kiss, pillaging his mouth the way he plundered her body. Angling their heads, they explored different positions for their embrace, the best one ― in Emma's opinion ― being when Killian mimicked  _other_  activities, his hips rutting against hers with his hand on the small of her back, keeping her in place. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth before claiming her ferociously.

Then he was pressed over her sensitive center, teasing exactly what he had to offer her. It only made her all the more desperate to finalize what they had started here.

With his lips, he left a path of longing from the tip of her chin down to the bottom of her abdomen. When he tried to part her legs so he could wedge his head between them, she didn't let him. Instead, she leaned backward until she was lying down flat, the cool stone absorbing her heat. Then her calves slid outward until they hooked behind the top of his thighs and yanked him forward, causing him to fall on top of her.

"I love a woman who knows what she wants." He grinned, balancing his weight on his arms so he could tower over her. The tip of his erection temptingly brushed her inner lips.

" _Please_ ," she begged, aligning them together. "I must have you, Killian."

With a nod, he pushed himself inside, filling her throbbing center. He moaned wildly when they started to move, both giving and taking, in and out and  _in_. Slowly. Killian was purposely lengthening his thrusts, the feeling as intoxicating as their first time. When she cupped his behind and squeezed it hard, he again sought her breasts and sucked hard on her nipples, biting and licking at them till they were more reddened.

Delighted by this lustful display from him, Emma urged him on, her fingers ensnared in his hair. "Yes,  _yes,_ you feel marvelous in me.  We were made for one another," she panted, feeling her contractions quicken. His hands tightened their hold on her shoulders. "Killian, you're fantastic.  I love this all so much ― love  _you_  so much..."

By now, his breathing was haggard, his voice husky and rough. "Darling, to be in you ― to complete you ― to have my cock in you, all of you clenching about me ― Emma, I've dreamed of this ― of you ― since we met―"

Her legs were wrapped around his waist, bringing him in deeper when she locked her ankles. Obliging her, he penetrated harder and harder, feeling her out more and more.

"Yes,  _Killian_ ," she shouted, seeking his mouth.

Growling, he led her tongue to his, this coupling a second intercourse that rivaled the first. Then, with both hands firmly holding her behind, groping each cheek roughly, he lifted her up until he was on his knees again, with her holding onto him for dear life. She threw her head back as he bucked, plunging upward rapidly until she was bouncing against him, straddling him.

Her hands were clasped around his neck, and her hair was flying about, strands whipping back and forth. When he bottomed out, filling her so thoroughly, her body was still hungry for more, her mind picturing every sexual possibility (that she knew of) with him. It only made her moan harder.

Killian seemed to enjoy this reaction of hers. "That's it, my darling, my love," he cried out during a particularly forceful push that made her shriek. "Show me how it feels!"

She tugged his head up so his mouth was right under hers again. Looking into his eyes, darkened by lust, she hesitated for only a moment before crushing her lips onto his, biting at the soft skin until it parted and she could drive her tongue into his mouth. Her nails dug into his shoulders when she clenched her thighs around his waist. Her moans of pleasure were swallowed down his throat while she rocked her hips and thrust hard in order to get him to come. He did, with her walls triggering his release as his spasms shook her.

But she wouldn't let him pull away when he finished.

"Love, if you don't want a second performance―" Killian gritted his teeth. "I can feel myself getting hard already."

"But I  _do_  want it." She smirked at him, rolling her hips over his. He exhaled slowly, eyelids fluttering closed. "Take me in the water, Killian."

He eyed her warily, eyebrows raised. "Can this sex-crazed woman truly be my Emma?"

She kissed along his neck. "You're one to talk. After all, you did call me a siren."

Slowly, he pulled out of her, but she needed his help to stand on her own two feet. Damn, her legs were wobbly.

Her hand brushed away some of his seed that had leaked out of her. She pointedly licked at her fingers that were moistened, sure to suck on the ends and let them get caught between her teeth. "Of course," she purred, fiddling with her wet curls, "if you really don't want to..."

Intoning her name, he half-carried her into the pool. As soon as they were both lapped up by the water, he was pushing her toward the edge. When her back hit the wall, he was already placing her legs around his waist again, his mouth somehow everywhere at once. Emma could only helplessly enjoy the moment while he took back control, savoring her, devouring her curves with the hunger and fury of a madman. She moaned loudly to spur on this more impassioned side of him. His hardening cock slipped halfway into her core, teasing her again and again.  He didn't relent until he was certain they were both sufficiently aroused for more.

His fingers slipped inside of her, mischievous but delicate toward her clit, his touch doing wonders. "Do you know how many times I've envisioned having you, my love?" he rasped, renewing the speed of his attentions. She gasped. "The fantasies, the nights of endless longing. Longing, for you. Wanting your body, your heart ― wanting  _all_  of you. You're the only woman for me, Emma. Say that you want only  _me_ , that you want no other man. Say it," he pleaded.

Her hands traveled up his neck, resting at its base. Leaning forward, she caught his lips with her own. But she made this kiss especially gentle, and filled with all she couldn't say. Because they weren't just lovers having some affair that was over within the month of its start. She was planning to have this ― to have him ― forever. Whether they left this island or not. Whether or not he intended to―

To hell with intentions. She had him now, and he her. "Only you..." she whispered, closing her eyes before leaning in to seal her words with another kiss.

She didn't have to wait long for him act on her reply.

The water splashed violently around them when he pounded into her, encouraging her screams with that sultry voice of his. His chest pressing against hers, her sore breasts sending tremors of pleasure to her core, the way his length rubbed over her walls and touched her ― Emma sobbed when another orgasm wracked her body. She could feel how his muscles shuddered in turn while her hands ran down his back. He came with a deep groan of his own, her name on his lips.

God, Killian looked utterly  _destroyed_. His lips were red, his face pale; wet strands of hair were plastered to his forehead, and he was breathing so hard.

Softly caressing his cheeks, Emma tried to calm him down, though her own limbs felt quite weak as well. Her heartbeat was raging inside. "Are you alright?"

He coughed, nuzzling between her breasts. Warm air tickled her there, the sensation making her grin. "I'm wonderful, love." She moaned when he licked not so subtly at her nipples. "Just enjoy the moment, hmm?"

Emma chuckled. "If I enjoy this too much, we'll end up ―  _oh_ ―"

He surged forward and stood upright, hefting her in his arms in a burst of remaining water. "While I would most enjoy," he gripped her thighs pointedly as he walked out of the grotto, dripping water where he went, "entering you another time, we both seem to be exhausted by this turn of events. Best not to drown, aye?"

She crooked an eyebrow. "But what about our wash?"

His smile was wicked when he said, "Oh darling, I haven't forgotten about  _that_  pleasantry."

* * *

_Emma made a face. Once, she would have been thrilled to eat pineapple and coconuts every day, but the prospect was becoming quite dull. You could only eat so much baked fish and fruit for breakfast, lunch, and supper that many months in a row. Images of bread and cheese and venison came to mind._

" _I take it that our food isn't to your liking?"_

_She shook her head, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. "It's not that. Back...home, I never really cared what I ate. Eating always took so much time away from doing other things."_

_Killian smiled at her. "Exactly what I thought as well. Liam scolded me so when I'd skip meals sometimes to read instead."_

_"Oh, my mother would throw a fit sometimes," she chuckled. Memories of her parents were comforting and saddening at the same time. She clung to them nonetheless._

" _Being at sea, one eats a great deal of trout and seafood, but I must admit that my taste for our fare has died out." He waggled his eyebrows and then winked at her._

_Emma giggled. He always knew how to cheer her up._

* * *

Despite the idyllic turn this stay of theirs had taken, Killian still had his obligation to fulfill. If there was any way to get them off this island, he would find it.

Of course, he wouldn't deny how tempting it was to imagine a life here, with Emma. This place made it very simple. All they would need would be each other. They could go on happily, surviving on coconuts and cave dances and endless conversations and the sheer pleasure of having one another.

But then there was Liam. His own duties as a naval officer.  _And_  Emma's parents.

Bloody hell, Emma belonged in her kingdom. She was, after all, the princess. He would do best to remember that no matter how many times they made love, it didn't mean he would ever have a permanent spot in her life.

Every night, after she had fallen asleep, he wondered what she would say if he asked her to marry him. Would she laugh in his face? Tell him to forget a deeper attachment? Throw his station in his face?

Or would she say yes?

He honestly believed she loved him ― he truly did. But there were times when he couldn't chase away his doubts. This could all be a beautiful dream, a vision he'd awaken from some fevered night on the  _Jewel_  or in the castle.

Then his heart would shatter, and he would be worse off than he was before.

Trudging around the island, Killian reluctantly checked on his signal fires, replenishing the fish oil with what he had gathered today. In the daylight, there wasn't a chance any ship would see their glow. But it was better to always be prepared. Liam taught him that.

He rubbed a hand over his face. Even the darkness of the cave was better than a constant reminder that the world out there was thriving and well, while Emma and he were stuck in the middle of nowhere, unable to be part of that. Perhaps it was his fault this had befallen them. After all, he'd wished so hard on the stars the night before the storm hit ―  _like a bloody daft fool_  ― that Emma could somehow be his, if only for a moment.

Speaking of whom, what was that tenacious woman up to all this time he had been occupied? She usually went exploring when he was gone, sometimes visiting their waterfall by herself and going for a swim.  Today, he had been checking on her to make sure she was safe but hadn't seen her anywhere.

He crossed over to the forefront of the island, where the main beach was. Seeing the onset of the sunset had become a habit of his, a way of saying good-bye to the day and hoping tomorrow would be better, before going back to where his beloved was. 

Of all things, he didn't expect to see Emma sunbathing there. Almost immediately, the white trousers he had insisted on wearing ― for propriety's sake ― began to rub him the wrong way, and there was that familiar tightening sensation in his groin.

Her prostrate form was facedown, leaving the front of her buried in the sand. But the swells of her breasts were visible, her lush backside was uncovered, and he could trace the path of her spine until it was concealed by waves of her hair. It looked like she was shaping sand into a mound ― perhaps building a sand castle?

He smiled sadly. Ah, the joys of wistful thinking.  Quietly, he tugged off his boots and undid his trousers, sighing at the feel of the wind drying his sweaty skin.

Then he lowered himself onto her, careful not to crush her under his weight. The rounded cheeks of her bottom molded against his aching cock, the heat of them causing his erection to painfully constrict, and he couldn't help reaching down to palm her hips.

His nose sank into her golden tresses, breathing in her lovely scent. "I could make love to you like this, Emma," he groaned, fingers slipping underneath to tenderly pinch her nipples.

Her back arched. "I've been wondering how long it would take you to find me here." Her voice was light, but her tone seemed to be something of a challenge when she said, "You've reached the right conclusion, but the question is..." After propping her upper torso up with her arms, she ground her hips backward. His blood became a furnace. "What are you going to do about it?"

 _God above._  "Are you testing me, darling?" he growled out, cupping her breasts in his hands and then roughly kneading them. This elicited a deep moan from his love, and she turned her head until her mouth was near his, stealing a long kiss from him. "Because I may seem straight-laced at first sight, but I'll be honest with you." His lips trailed down the side of her face. "When I see you, I can only think of one course of action."

"What's that?" she asked breathily, wriggling under his hold.

Killian chuckled darkly, threading his fingers in her hair. He kissed over her shoulders, rocking his length against her. She gasped. "It's simple, really, my beautiful Emma." One kiss, then two, then three, creating a trail down the base of her neck as he traveled down the curve of her spine, worshiping her back. "I want to  _pillage_  you ―  _plunder_  you. All of you. Your heart. Your body. Your very  _soul_." Damn, his voice was shaky. "Start at the top of your head until I make my way down..."

He relished how Emma trembled while he lowered his wandering hand until he was parting her wet folds with his fingers, stroking them with care. "Then I will drink you in with my eyes and my hands and my mouth. I'll taste you." How she moaned and whined as his lips wandered over the smooth cheeks of her behind, licking his way through. "Then I'll mark you." His teeth nipped between her inner thighs, his tongue quick to follow and soothe the imprint. "Then I'll eat you alive with my mouth. I'll touch your skin till I memorize every path of it."

Whimpering, she began to thrust up, fingers digging into the sand. "And after that? When you've taken your fill?"

As he rose up, his cock sneaked down until it was brushing her warmth, wet lips parting for him like an opening flower. If he were to compare Emma to a blossom, it would have to be a lily: full of nectar, overflowing with pollen and a sweet, thrilling scent.

Although by the way she was responding to his touch, it really would be much more appropriate to deem her an orchid, something wild and exotic and sensual. She was calling all his baser desires out to play with hers ― and he bloody loved that.

While one hand run up the smooth plane of her stomach, he continued to knead one breast with the other, whispering, "Then, my queen, I'll do what I've always wanted to do."

She drew him into another languorous kiss, sure to find his tongue and pull him under into a haze of longing as her lips demonstrated their power over him. "Well?" she demanded afterwards.

He crooked an eyebrow at her, feeling another smirk come on. "Do I really need to say it?"

"Yes, stop playing around with words, Killian!"

He could feel his reason become overshadowed, his senses completely clouded by lust and want and  _need_. His tip nudged into her entrance. "Alright, love ― you've got me. I'd plunge right into you again and again, savoring how tight and hot and bloody inviting you are. My cock would fit you so completely that there would be no room for anything ― or anyone ― else. It would be unrestrained. Wild. Wholly wanton. Entirely sinful. Passionate.  _And I want it_."

"But...haven't we  _already_  done that?"

Damn her cheeky response."Not like this," he rasped, pressing a hungry kiss to the nape of her neck. "Emma, I want to take you from behind."

She immediately stiffened in his arms. Swallowing hard, he hastened to explain. She couldn't possibly think he would― "It's from a different angle ― I'm not suggesting ― I'd never dream of―" Bloody hell, he could feel his cheeks reddening. "We'd only try if you agree, love ― honest―"

"What does that even mean?" Oh no, now she was trembling. God above, he would never, ever in a million years  _hurt_  her.

"Emma darling." Killian hated how fretful his tone was, but it couldn't be helped. "I would merely be entering you from underneath."

Even to his own ears, this was beginning to sound like a bloody stupid idea. The more he tried to count out the reasons why he had thought of this position at all, the more he wanted to slap himself for being a bloody buggering git.

"Oh, sod it all!" he growled out, growing more frustrated by the moment. First, it was sexual frustration, now it was just frustration at himself for being an ass and not considering her feelings.

He started to get up and remove himself from her person. Nothing was more surprising than her plaintive "Wait!"

"Killian, don't leave." When she gazed up at him with those beautiful green eyes, his heart melted. Literally, bloody melted. He would do anything, give  _anything_  to keep her looking at him like that, with so much love and so much trust.

"I didn't say I wanted you to go," she whispered. With her head bowed, she seemed to be so subdued, so small ― as if she were  _afraid_. And fear wasn't a part of Princess Emma. She  _never_  showed fear. "I just...I didn't know what to say. I...um, you mentioned trying new things, but I don't know if...if I'm ready for that."

His breathing relaxed. "Lass...sweetheart..." He crawled toward her, approaching on his hands and knees. Aye, he must look bloody ridiculous, taut cock bobbing against his stomach, but never mind that. "Remember what I told you? I won't attempt anything without your permission. I do your bidding, aye?"

Emma blushed. "I don't want for you to think that way. I want you to feel...I mean, I  _thought_  you felt like you enjoyed making love to me ― because  _you_  want to. I'm not a princess here."

The more flustered and unsure she got, the more trouble he had holding his tongue in check. How his words had been misconstrued... "Emma..."

She opened her mouth to say something else, but he put a stop to it by kissing her with a fierceness he couldn't contain. When she was moaning into his mouth and actively responding to the union of their tongues, he took this as a sign to continue their activities.

Slowly, his hands ran down her back, the swell of her bottom. What he wasn't expecting was his lady massaging his cock, chuckling when he groaned his surprise.

"I'm going to come undone right now if you don't stop that," he hissed, willing his voice to be menacing.

She didn't buy it for a second, obviously, because her other hand was now on his arse, squeezing it appreciatively. "But I want you to come undone." Her eyelashes blinked at him in a flirtatious manner, and judging from the seductive smile on her lips, he was forgiven for his oversight.

Good.

"I understand that, m'dear, but I'd prefer to come undone inside  _you_ , rather than into the sand."

"Hmm..." She pretended to consider this before glancing up at him, mischief in her eyes. "You're right. I don't want that."

In one mere moment, she had pushed him flat onto his back and straddled his waist. Spreading her legs widely, she prepared herself for him ― and the view of the whole performance, how her heat took his aching length in and pooled around his core, made him hum with desire.

When she began to ride him, he wondered how he wasn't overwhelmed by her. But then, as she took her time to adjust to his size and the right rhythm to thrust, he drank in all of her, wanting to just admire her beauty, towering above him.

Her breasts, full and round, rosy nipples taut from his attentions. The thought of them being without his touch made him try to sit up, but she pushed him back down, tsking at him in mock annoyance. "Not now, I'm busy." Then the bloody vixen winked at him.

Her golden hair tumbled down her shoulders, her neck, her chest, swaying as she moved above him. Firm thighs clutched at his hips, goading him on while she rocked and rolled and ground herself onto him. Long legs gripped at his sides, helping her keep up the steady pace ― and her hands... Her palms were outstretched on his chest, a final anchor to keep herself balanced.

Last but not least, he stared at her face. That wondrous, marvelous face...  Her luscious lips pursed from anticipation and effort and then parted from pleasure every other second.  Her eyelids fluttering closed as she savored their coupling. From the tip of her nose to her chin, she was the angel of his dreams, and not because of some idiotic ideal.

Because she was perfect ― for  _him_. Because they were in love, and they wanted no one else. Somehow, they just fit together, all the pieces snapping into place. And they were quite a match to behold.

"Oh god... _Killian_...I'm close...I'm so close..." Emma panted. Her walls clenched around him, drawing out a similar cry from him as well. "When you're in me, I can never get enough...I want you in me for hours, for days at a time..."

The sight of her heaving breasts, so close and yet not in his reach, rich treats he wanted to sample again, finally did him in. When he violently sat up, she gave a loud shriek at the sudden change in position.

"You're not supposed to―" He captured her lips with his in a searing kiss, swallowing her protests. At the same time, his arms were occupied, pulling her body into his lap so that he could be more involved from now on. She broke away, gasping for air. "It was my turn to be in control!"

He crooked an eyebrow at her. "But you  _are_  in control, love ― I'm just along for the ride." He accentuated this with a roll of his hips. "Heaven forbid that I would stop you from taking your pleasure," he growled into her ear, stopping to suck on her earlobe.

His hands reached around her to cup her behind and seat her comfortably on top of him. Notwithstanding the fact that his cock was encompassed by her throbbing cunt and all too eager to continue its invasion.

When her gorgeous breasts were right under his nose, nipples by his lips, he smirked. "Ah, much better."

However, instead of scolding him, Emma just threw her head back and laughed. Her warm, wide grin was precious forgiveness for his unholy lust for her, his love sometimes struggling to create equilibrium.

Now she was arching her brows at him. "All this so you could have more foreplay?"

He chuckled. "Not quite." He wrapped her arms around his neck, making sure her lower back was adequately supported with his hands. "Now, let's make love properly, shall we? Together?"

She gave him a smirk of her own before her thighs found their stronghold around his waist. Then she lifted herself up, settling back down on him once more. However, this time he searched for the right angle, wanting to go deeper than ever before. When her jaw dropped, he knew he had found what he was looking for. He gripped her hips hard and thrust in that direction rapidly.

As he had guessed, the extreme secret spot his cock was driving into elicited a very heady Emma. "Oh,  _fuck,_ " she cursed, digging her nails into his shoulders.

He only thrust harder in response. She literally impaled herself on him in return, making the journey a very rough one, indeed.

Damn, it was bloody exhilarating.

Threading her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, she tugged his head back, devouring his mouth. Then, as quickly as she began, she stopped. He took advantage of the pause, caused mainly by her cries of need and his name, to suck on the nearest nipple. Meanwhile, his hand crept down and fingered her clit.

"Damn yes, touch me, just like that,  _just like that,_ " she moaned desperately, her center milking him. "Faster ― harder ― oh god, more,  _more_!"

"Bloody hell,  _Emma,_ " he moaned back. Her breasts were bouncing wildly in front of his face and then she was arching her back, with him holding on tight to her waist so that she didn't tip over from the incredible force of how they were riding each other into a lustful frenzy. The feel of sand rubbing against his arse and calves, while her feet dug into his lower back and her bottom rubbed incessantly over his upper thighs, only made the situation more erotic.

Her nipples felt so damn good, tender and volatile. He couldn't stop suckling, his entire mouth attached to this part of Emma, wanting to lick and suck and nip and bite, unable to convince his mind that paying this much respect to her breasts was bloody unnatural...or abnormal. But his tongue was addicted to how it felt to roll over the tips, how the roundness and the softness of her skin sent such immeasurable heat to his groin that he needed to keep those twin beauties near, for sanity's sake. He pleasured them in time to his thrusts, the burn inside growing hotter and hotter.

Bloody hell, who cared about abnormal? From the way her fingers were roped into his hair, his lass didn't want him to stop either. He only moved one hairsbreadth, as if he intended to cease, and she yanked his head back into place.

He groaned against her breast, lapping at her cleavage. "Emma ―  _God_ , lass ― you feel too good, too bloody fucking good around my mouth and my cock!"

Her eyes snapped open, frantic and filled with need. "Please, Killian ―  _please,_ " she mewed.

"As my princess wishes." Purposely pressing hard over her clit, he thrust up sharply. Her entire body bowed back, and she contracted around him, keening her release. Damn it to hell, it was such a bloody fantastic feeling to see her come, and all because of him.

It was with great effort that he was able to stop himself from climaxing as well, but he managed. With a low gasp, he withdrew from her inviting depths. Her new expression, from dazzled and satisfied to confused and surprised, was more provocative than she could possibly realize.

"Why haven't you...?" She flushed, biting down on her lip. "Wasn't I―?"

Leaning forward, Killian gently rubbed noses with her. "Darling, you were wonderful, as always. But I..." He reached for her hand and slid it down his chest, down to where his erection was in check. "I have other plans in mind."

"Oh?" She ran one finger up and down his rigid length. He could see precum leaking out of the tip. "And what are those?"

"Lie down, on your side, darling. And I'll show you."

He lowered her onto the sand. After he caressed her cheek, she rolled onto her left side, like he had asked. Following, he settled behind her, weaving his arms around her waist.

"Now," he murmured, pressing kisses along her shoulders, "lift your leg for me ― and place it over mine." His cock slipped between the cheeks of her bottom, then right below her entrance, which was still dripping wet. "Do you trust me, Emma?"

She whimpered when he began to slowly enter her again, but nodded. "Promise...promise you'll stop if I ask?" she breathed, placing her hands on top of his.

"Of course, my darling, you have my word." He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her unique fragrance. Her leg curled over his, allowing him more access. "This is simply another way for me to give you so much more pleasure...pleasure more intense, more fulfilling..."

That special spot he'd only read about in unnameable books, where even brushing it during penetration guaranteed a woman an extraordinary climax...

Oh, he was going to find Emma's if it was the last thing he did.

"Where were we? Ah yes. I was about to take you ― again," he purred, relishing the weight of her breast in his hand. He pushed until he filled her completely. When he was fully sheathed, he rotated his hips. He wouldn't stop till he had brushed up against her pleasure point.

"Oh god...you're in so deep..." she whispered, sighing. Her lovely arse rocked against him, spurring him on. He began to thrust up and out, aligning himself with the outer side of her walls. "Will this really feel different from before?"

He nibbled on the column of her throat. "Aye, love, I believe it will." Every thrust was so full and thorough, he could barely wait any longer. The slower he went, the more opportunity there was for her heat to envelop his cock and persuade him to come. It was pure bloody temptation.

Then Emma slightly shifted her hips, and a low cry fell from her lips. "Killian...Killian..."

He must have fucking hit it. "Again," he said hoarsely, angling himself to touch the same spot. "Scream my name again, my lass."

"Killian." Her fingers gripped his hand tightly, while her other was sinking into the sand. Moaning, she writhed and twisted in his grasp, thrusting back, her channel vising his length. "My Killian...I love you...I love you...I love how you fuck me..."

"Aye, my love, the feeling is  _very_  mutual. I take it you're enjoying yourself, hmm?" Grinning, he rolled her nipple between his fingers. When she turned to look at him, the most beautiful smile on her lips, he leaned in and kissed her with all his longing, cradling her head with his hand.

Her arm snaked around his neck to bring him closer to her, letting him deepen the kiss even more. "See? Nothing to fear," he murmured. Feeling her relax, he began to pick up the pace, bucking his hips up and down.

Her shouts and moans filled the air when his thrusts became erratic. "God yes,  _Killian_  ― yes,  _yes_ ―"

He felt his lower regions tighten. "Mine ― you're mine, Emma, all mine," he growled out, now possessively kneading both breasts. Her heartbeat quickened under his palms.

Right when he was certain he couldn't resist any longer, Emma screamed his name, arching against him during her climax.

Killian continued to pound into her until he felt her come a third time, heated and throbbing and bloody hell, so fucking tight and wet around him. "Emma," he groaned, emptying himself in her, "Emma darling, I love you so bloody much!"

The series of powerful orgasms left a limp, panting princess in his arms. As for himself, he lay out on his back beside her, breathless and sated.  God, this was bloody brilliant.

Hesitantly, she climbed on top of him, laving his chest with open-mouthed kisses until her lips were on his, the palm of hand so soft on his cheek. Accepting her unspoken invitation, his tongue slid between her parted lips and explored within, his entire being warm from the memories of how she had given him her love as well as her body. Bloody hell, so much unspent passion in the both of them, even after so much bloody sex ― and he was entirely under her thrall, to be sure.Threading his fingers through her wayward locks, he tugged her into his embrace and then held her close, caressing her back.

_Exhausted beyond imagining, but still burning and lusting for each other._

_Basking in love._

* * *

They remained on the beach for what seemed like hours, curled up into the hot sand with the sun's rays turning their skin into a hundred shades of bronze.

His beloved was fast asleep when sunset came. After pulling on his trousers and folding the rest of their clothes over one arm, he carried her in his arms to the cave, willing his legs to walk fast so that he too could rest beside her. All he could think about on the way back was how his groin was sore, his head was light, and his heart was racing. He was having the wildest, most passionate sex with the woman he loved ― who loved him in return. Who was snuggling into him, right this minute.

He didn't know how to stop wanting that ― stop wanting  _her_ in his life. This was like being a victim of a terrible fever, where the line between reason and delirium was so blurred. Constantly making love to Emma, challenging her reactions to his touch...  It was emboldening him and strengthening the connection between them till it would be impossible to break it without causing himself ― and her ― great pain.

This was only encouraging his resolve to make her his, no matter what would happen.

Bloody, bloody hell.

* * *

" _We don't need a treehouse. Or a hut. Or anything of the sort. We are perfectly fine without it," Emma yelled back, stomping away. When a hanging palm leaf threatened her departure, she violently swatted back at it._

_Of course, Killian wouldn't just leave the damn subject alone. "We need something better than a humid slab of rock," he returned, storming out of the cave like a whirlwind. His shirt and vest were unbuttoned, his trousers hanging askew on his hips. "You need to be prepared that this may be our only―"_

_She turned around mid-step, glaring at him. "Don't you dare say it, Killian Jones," she snapped. "Don't even dare imply that this is going to become our home. Because it is nothing of the sort."_

" _I was actually going to say 'chance' ― but thank you for confirming what I've known all along."_

_Her jaw dropped. "What kind of conclusion could you draw from―"_

" _Would you ever be happy with me ― with just me?" he accused. "Or would you always be looking for more?"_

_Now she was really gaping at him. "You are blowing everything out of proportion―"_

" _Am I?" he said quietly. His throaty, deep tone gave her pause. Damn it, he was softening her anger. "Tell me, Emma: if I was all you had ― if this was all you had ― would you be truly happy? Or would you burst at the seams sooner or later, wanting more?"_

_The frustration and bone-deep exhaustion she had been feeling earlier really sank in, until both were in her core, pushing her. "Is it so wrong, that I want to go home?" Her voice broke, and suddenly her mouth went dry. Images of her parents clouded her mind until she was choking on the tears she could barely hold back._

_The look in his eyes was pained. "Of course not, sweetheart. But I need to know. Have the past weeks been only about satisfying our needs and taking pleasure in our bodies? Because..." He gulped. "Because for me, I have been treasuring every moment just spent around you. I love listening to what you have to say. I love being with you, even when we don't speak. I love waking up next to you and going to sleep with you by my side. Bloody hell, I even love your anger, though it usually ends up with you throwing a coconut at my head." He chuckled before his gaze intensified._

" _But most of all, I love_ _you_ _, Emma. There is no other woman in all the realms like you. I am privileged to know you, to be with you, to touch you. To...to make love to you," he whispered, bowing his head. "I could spend all my days on this bloody island, wrapped up in you and what we have, if I had to. That doesn't mean that I don't want to see Liam again, or that I don't want for us to get out of here. But what if we can't?"_

_She bit down on her lower lip. "I know. But building a temporary home...  It's like putting down roots in a new place. Like the old is gone. And the thought of that...  Killian, I'm frightened of that."_

_His expression softened. Opening his arms to her, he beckoned with his hands. Slipping in between, she settled her head on his rising chest, hiding her face in his warm skin. She sighed when he kissed her temple. "_

_Don't be afraid, darling," he breathed into her hair. "I've got you, and you've got me. If I knew that building a hut out of bloody palm leaves would make you so upset, I wouldn't have asked in the first place."_

_Her lips curled. "You honestly want to go back."_

" _Aye, I do." Pulling back, he took her face in his hands. She finally looked up, meeting his eyes. "But none of this changes what I want. And what I want...what I've always wanted...is you."_

* * *

His eyes were locked on hers, never leaving them. Deftly, he poured the coconut milk in a thick trickle down her chest, over her breasts, over her stomach, over the apex between her thighs. Then, putting the shell aside, he descended and lapped at the white trail. His mouth first visited her moist walls, lapping at her folds, coaxing her into early orgasm. His stubble was ticklish as he kissed along her belly, nipping at her navel while making his way upward. When his tongue swirled over her areolae last, then her nipples, her breath caught in her throat. She choked out a cry when he sucked hard on the tender buds, moaning his contentment around them.

"Delicious," he murmured huskily, warm breath tickling her. "So ripe and succulent...  I could drink you in for hours, Emma...slake my thirst for you..."

She groaned, fingers curling into his hair. "Keep going," she replied, her own voice throaty and deep.

"All in good time, my love, all in good time." He licked around the swells of her breasts and at the undersides in a circle before going back to her nipples. She thought he would just kiss them and move on, but he didn't. He continued to milk each so hungrily, his hand working in tandem to make sure both were taken care of at the same time.

"So beautiful, so sweet. You smell divine." He looked up at her, a scorching blue gaze that transfixed her. "Are they mine? Are you mine?" He thumbed the curve of one breast. "Do you belong to me, Emma?"

Belong? Damn, it took one wrong word to ruin the moment. She pulled his hands off her, glaring at him. "I belong to no one,  _Jones_ ―"

"That's not what I meant, lass." He rose over her, his eyes brightening even more. It didn't help that his hard length was pressing against her thigh, reminding her of how right it always felt inside her. "During the past months, I have given you everything: my body, my heart, my love...all in all, my very self. I'll admit that I am a selfish man, especially when it comes to the people I love. I want their loyalty. I want their love in return. But most of all, I want them to  _stay_."

He swallowed hard, causing a twinge of regret to plague her heart. She remembered all too well that his parents had abandoned him. God, she always overreacted to every little―

"Emma...I don't want you for my slave ― or ― or just for sex. I want you to be mine, just as I am and have always been yours ― your friend, your confidante...your lover. So let me rephrase my question, darling: I belong  _with_  you, and I belong  _to_  you, body and soul. Can you say the same, to me?"

Vaguely, it registered in her mind that coconut milk was dripping down most of her skin, while wetness spilled over her aching inner thighs. Her lungs felt constricted. "What are you saying, Killian?"

His jaw was clenched, his eyes blazing. "Let's face the facts, shall we? We've been on this bloody island for how long now ― more than half a year?" He sounded angry ―  _wronged_ , even. And she understood that all too well, this sense of betrayal, of abandonment. Had they been forgotten by the world? "It's time to accept that we may never leave this place, that this may very well be our new home. We are all each other has, and instead of dancing around my feelings for you, I've come to terms with them."

The tightness in her chest deepened. "You're making it sound like you're  _obligated_  to be with me," she huffed, "that what has grown between us is born from  _necessity_!"

"No, I'm not," he growled, grabbing her by the shoulders. "I'm saying, Emma, that I don't want to go on being unsure of us, of what we are. I'm saying that I consider you to be more than just my lover, more than just my partner. What I'm trying to bloody say, you stubborn woman, is that I want to  _marry_  you!"

She gaped at him. "You are seriously proposing to me during  _sex_?"

He pursed his lips, but said nothing. Slowly, his cheeks turned red, and the flush that crept over his skin was not from desire. Before she could see his expression, he turned his face away from her. Her heart dropped.

"Killian, why do you really want to marry me?" She sat up on her haunches so that there would be more space between them. "Is just because we're here, in this situation? It's alright ― truly ― if you say yes," she added, her voice surprisingly quiet. How could she be this calm on the outside, when everything inside her was going crazy?

When he finally looked at her again, his eyes had softened, cool shades of blue that sparkled. "No.  I want to marry you, sweet Emma, because..." She bit back a smile when he wormed at his bottom lip with his teeth, clearly anxious amid his thoughts. "Because it feels like the right thing to do, loving you so much. I don't just want to be with you for the rest of my days."

Her breath hitched in her throat, but his voice became stronger, surer, gruffer. "I want to take care of you, because I care  _for_  you. I want to show you every bloody day of my life that I love you, that I will do anything to help you be happy and contented, with or without me. That I will make sure you are cherished, respected, and valued ―  _always_."

Then he ducked his head. "However, I won't deny that...that the love you've shown me is something I want to keep forever. I can't possibly think you want me like this in return, but I can hope you will."

"You're serious." She gulped. Panic was setting in with the speed of a storm ― too many feelings clouding her senses at once― "I...I don't know what to say."

His answering smile was sad. "It's understandable, Your Highness. After all, you are very young and...  Well, I'm sure you were expecting a more formal proposal, in a more formal setting, from someone more elevated  _and_  recommended by your parents."

Idiot. Emma shook her head. "Killian Jones, don't you dare patronize me ― we're on a godforsaken island, for God's sake!"

He crooked an eyebrow. "I recall you said that wasn't necessarily a bad thing?"

"It's not. But ― but, damn it, you were right." She felt surprised by her own outburst. "You think it doesn't sting that we haven't seen a single living soul for months and months ― that we could be stuck here for eternity, if nothing changes?" she cried, waving her hands about. "This life we've been living ― it's not  _real_!"

Now he looked hurt, chewing on his lips and failing to appear unaffected.

A calmness, unlike anything she had ever known, tingled in her, rising like a wave. All her misgivings disappeared in a break of clarity. Then she  _knew_. It was easier than breathing, being with him. What else did she want?

"But you..." she continued breathlessly, threading her fingers through his hair, "you're real. Our love is real ― I'm sure of it. If nothing else, I believe in that, in  _us_."

With a growing grin, lopsided and bashful and hopeful, he hesitantly replied, "So is that a yes, love?"

Emma threw her arms around his neck. She couldn't stop smiling, not when he was looking at her like this. Right before she leaned in to kiss him, she whispered, "It's a yes, Jones, I'll marry you."


	5. Part V - Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm sorry it took me 2 years to get this chapter up, but here, at long last, is the final part. Please note that I have gone back and edited the previous chapters for grammar and fluidity.

Liam considered himself a reasonable man even when it came to magic, which he did not hold in high regard. However, this island was undoubtedly a pain in the arse. Beautiful, aye, but a treasure? Hah. He had already sent crewmen out in a longboat three times, only for the boat to be overturned right when it hit the water by an apparent backlash of magic. It seemed that the entire area was protected by some sort of magical shield or barrier, preventing intruders from sneaking in. The island itself was invisible to the naked eye. How then did Emma and Killian manage to find their way here?

Tugging at his hair, Liam leaned against the railing on the quarterdeck. The sea swirling below looked calm, and the sky was a clear, empty blue. There was no physical explanation other than magical powers at play. Rumplestiltskin had warned the king that this might happen. Bloody hell, he hated when that fiend was right.

Pulling a tiny bottle out of the back pocket of his breeches, he eyed the dark purple liquid with distaste. _Just one drop_ , David had cautioned. _We don't want to upset whoever created this place ― you just want to get in and out in one piece._ Not to mention that the magic squid ink was rare and cost dearly. Rumplestiltskin was quite taken by the _Jewel_ 's Pegasus sails.

Removing the cork with his teeth, he watched as a single drop fell like an arrow toward the waves. The moment they touched, a great shudder rocked the ship, nearly knocking him off his feet.

"Bloody magic," he muttered, scrambling for his fallen spyglass.

"Ahoy, land ho!" came the shouts from the crow's nest. "Captain, land straight ahead!"

Like a rippling veil lifted by an unseen hand, the magical protection vanished. When he gave the order to lower the sails, the ship smoothly moved forward, gliding fast from the onset of strong winds. All the men cheered.

He could see it now with his naked eye. Even from this point, the island was a lush oasis, a spot of greenery in the midst of so much saltwater. To sailors, greenery meant fresh food and water. He would have a hard time of keeping everyone onboard while he sailed ashore. Another of those damn instructions: Liam had to go alone. His bond with Killian would help him evade the island's spell.

"Steady as she goes, gentlemen," he shouted back, eyes set on the golden sand and tall palm trees coming into view. "We are instructed to be cautious at all times. This is a land that rules itself."

True, it seemed to be a veritable paradise, but perhaps that was the cause of magic as well, deceptive appearances. For all he knew, once he set foot on that sand, the island could become a desert wilderness, or a thicket full of swamps. Enchantment always had a cost.

Poor little brother, he thought to himself, tsking. He had to look out for Princess Emma as well as himself. Given the lady's intense dislike for Killian, these past weeks must have been hell on earth indeed for the unfortunate fellow.

* * *

The instant that the soles of Liam's boots hit the golden sand of the beach, he sensed something was wrong. _Well, since this was a magical island, that in itself was already a mark against it_ ― however...

He felt queer. His back stiffened of its own accord, and his limbs tensed.

There seemed to be no one around, but he knew himself. It was as if someone was watching him.

Thank heavens he had commanded the crew to stay behind on the ship. If there was some magical entity awaiting him, he was guessing it was not a friendly one. Consequences for disturbing some foreign being's territory could be dire.

"That depends on what you plan to do, Captain, now that you are here."

Liam blinked. What appeared to be a woman now stood in his path, when before there was nothing but sand and twigs.

A luminous, beautiful woman, with golden hair and pale arms and silver bracelets on her wrists. Her attire was a white chiton, attire he had only read of in dusty old books, and sandals.

Hand on his sword, he began to approach her. With a wave of her hand, his feet were suddenly frozen to the ground. The fading shimmer told him all he needed to know.

_Bloody magic._

"Why do you disturb my island, Liam Jones?" She arched a brow, tilting her chin defiantly. "Your life depends on your answer."

Though his body was immobile, he found that he could still speak. Grimacing, he spat out, "Since you already know my name, _witch_ , I seek my brother and the Princess, whom you are holding captive here."

Her laugh sounded like tinkering chimes and bells. Too musical for an evil sorceress. "A witch? Me? Tsk, where are your manners, Captain?" She smirked. "That is no way to speak to a goddess."

"Goddess?" he choked out. Gods only existed in the writings of ancient scholars. And from the myths he had read, immortals did not like mortals.

"Hmm, yes." After glancing at her nails, the apparent goddess started to pace around him, eyeing him up and down. "You must have heard of me ― Aphrodite, bringer of love and beauty?"

_Aphrodite. A temptress, seductress, destroyer of men's ability to reason. Her son Eros was the god of lust._

"Indeed, all that. Not to mention that I can take any male or female I desire as my lover. All are drawn to me, for all seek love, though they themselves may not understand it." She turned her nose up at him. "You are harder to convince, I see."

"Reading my mind is an unfair advantage," he snapped, struggling to move his legs. They did not budge. "As is keeping me restrained when there is no possibility I can harm you."

She pretended to consider his pleas. Then she laughed again, drawing close to him. "You are just as feisty as your brother, Captain ― such a delightful quality." Her lips were right by his ear, and he could swear she licked at his earlobe. "The benefits of power keep things interesting. As do you."

"What of my brother?"

Squinting at him, she framed her hips with her hands. "Your brother, Killian Jones, and Princess Emma of Misthaven are the couple you wish to find. My island brought them here."

"Treasure Island is your island?"

"Yes, _my_ island — although I don't accept that frightful moniker. Regardless, it is dedicated to me. You see, you don't know your beloved Killian as well as you thought you do. He has caused quite a bit of mischief for himself." She sighed dramatically. "If only he had not been so careless, wishing for his heart's desire that night on the ship. If only he had known that in the quarters not far from his, someone with magic lay sleeping."

"Someone with magic? Wishing?" His head was spinning. "What riddles do you speak of, Aphrodite?"

"Riddles?" Her gaze simmered. "I speak no riddles. This island is imbued with old magic ― my magic. The power of true love, to be precise. It is a sanctuary for those who truly love each other, though for others..." Her grin became mischievous. "Only genuine love can exist peacefully here."

He was utterly confused.

"You humans, so pathetically dense." Rolling her eyes, she sat down on a nearby log. "Oh well, I suppose I must spell it out for you. Your precious brother loves the Crown Princess. His desire for her ― and hers for him, hidden though it was ― attracted the attention of the island. The heart is so complex, but here, desire is the _only_ reasoning you find. Neither of them was listening. I helped with that."

"You are insane, Goddess. Killian and Emma―" He swallowed hard, recalling his brother's misery during the past year. "They despise each other."

"Am I?" She sneered at him. "Hatred has no place here. For those who selfishly desire anything other than the purest love, they are trapped in a prison of their own making. But for those in love, I can offer the greatest pleasures. Eternal youth. An abode free from the world's chaos. A paradise unparalleled throughout all the realms."

"In two weeks, after constant bickering and being dropped on an island in the middle of the ocean, they fell in love." He snorted. "I'm sorry, but that is absurd."

"You are the one who is foolish, Captain Jones. Have you not observed them together? Have you not glimpsed an inkling of the obvious feelings between them?" She played with the hem of her chiton. "I too was surprised at first that the island beckoned to them. However, once they came, it was clear why. Their bond is unbreakable. They both have been lying to each other, and themselves, for years."

Liam sighed deeply. She did have a point. He had noticed Killian's attraction to the Princess long before but had said nothing to him or her parents. That was unwise. Still, he had not been certain of the lady's feelings at the time and had wished to spare his brother certain heartbreak. "Perhaps they are in love. That still does not explain what holds them here. You said yourself that True Loves are acceptable."

"Ah, so you have been paying attention. Good boy." She patted his cheek. He gritted his teeth. She must have chuckled at his disgruntled expression. "Yes, True Love is the key to the island's magic. But you see, there is one, small problem. I usually leave this haven to its own devices, but Emma has hidden talents. Her power called to me." With a fingertip, giggling almost manically, she sketched the shape of a heart in mid-air. The golden hue of her magic remained. He scoffed inside at her histrionics. Just like―

_Rumplestiltskin's words. The golden compass, leading to what you desired most._

"Emma...has magic?"

"Thanks to her parents and their love. Any product of True Love is blessed and under my direct protection. It was a gift, if you will."

He gaped at her.

"The island is simply unwilling to let go of Emma. Her magic, combined with the intensity of her love, makes it feel content, shall we say ― like a well-fed pet. Its purpose fulfilled. The longer she and he stay, the less they wish to leave. And so, they have been unable to. They have fallen under the island's ultimate enchantment: its promise of heaven on earth for requited love."

"So what must I do, to free them?" He could feel the spell she had cast on him slowly wearing off.

Cocking her head, she scrutinized him. "Why should I let you free them, though? They are happy here. They are living in harmony. Wouldn't your presence ruin their happiness?"

"Bloody hell." His temper was at the end of its short rope, especially after she tsked at him again, muttering something about foul language. "I do not wish to _stay_ here, by God ― I wish for them to return home with me, as they were going to two damn weeks ago before they disappeared!"

"And they would be happier with you?"

"Bloody damnation, yes! They belong in Misthaven. They have duties and obligations beyond a futile residence on an _island_. They have family who has worried desperately about their safety and well-being. The King and Queen of Misthaven want their daughter returned. And I want my brother back."

"Are you sure?"

"Aye, I'm sure, Goddess of Love and Beauty," he hissed.

"My, how rude _and_ ungrateful." She licked slowly at her lips, then shrugged her shoulders. "Very well. Since your desire to find them seems sincere, I will grant you this one favor. You have a day to retrieve them and take them back to your ship. Neither I nor the island will hinder you any longer." Then she grinned. "By the way... Time started the moment you arrived here."

"You knew my intentions were honorable and yet you still tested me?" He was furious. If only he could wield his sword... "You knew _everything_ and purposely delayed me?"

She shrugged again, looking unapologetic. "I have not spoken to a mortal for a century, and you're handsome enough, in your own way. Besides, I couldn't make it too easy for you ― come now, don't scowl so. It mars that striking face of yours."

When she snapped her fingers, he dropped suddenly to his knees, wheezing and coughing. His arms finally moved, hands clawing at his sore throat. "You have till sunrise. Otherwise, the island's allure will keep them here forever." Her flirtatious tone turned sharp and cold. "Perhaps the next time you meet a god, you will have a little more respect. Luckily for you, Captain Liam Jones, I like your spirit and fire. You've entertained me greatly. Remember that today, your life was spared by Aphrodite."

With great effort, he strained his neck to look up at her, clutching at his chest.

But there was no trace she was ever there. Where she had stood, there were no footprints.

_Goddess, his arse. She was no better than a mere strumpet on the streets._

Her explanation registered in his mind, aye. And he did believe it was the truth, though he did not trust the speaker one bit.

Still, one nagging detail bothered him above all other revelations.

It was her parting laugh, lovely and cruel ― and promising unimaginable trouble.

* * *

The sunlight was temperate and pleasant on his face, but not so kind to his uniform. He was already clawing at his stiff collar and cuffs, desperate for a passing breeze or gust of wind to relieve his perspiring skin. However, the air remained still. There were no noises from the shrubbery, no chirping of birds or cacophony of wildlife. Even the palm leaves and shiny foliage of neighboring trees looked pristine, an unlikely situation in nature. Above all, the silence here was unnerving.

Swatting low-hanging branches out of his way, Liam continued to trudge through the underbrush, cursing occasionally at being poked and prodded by sharp, wooden ends. Where in the world were those two? This wasn't a large spit of land.

"Killian!" he shouted. "Your Highness? It's Captain Jones!"

No answer. Again, that surreal quiet that made his very bones twitch.

Perhaps that damn— He sighed. Perhaps that _goddess_ had been lying to him. What if this was a wild goose chase and there was no one here at all? He would be wasting precious time when he could out there on the seas, searching for them.

Not to mention that there was no trace of either of them. No broken twigs, no upturned soil — as if the island had washed away any sign of human interference. How magical was this place? Did divine possession mean that its functions were completely abnormal?

Shaking his head in contempt, he stopped to take a drink from his flask. He sure as hell did not trust running water here, so this source would have to do. Tales of enchanted streams and unfortunate transformations crossed his mind, strengthening his resolve.

A loud, piercing cry filled the clearing. Then another echoed, quickly becoming a series of wild, agonized moans.

His heart started to race, and his vision was blurry. Ignoring his thirst, he tried not to panic as he ran through thick greenery, regardless of how it pounded at his face and limbs.

Following the source of the noise, he cringed when the moans increased in frequency and volume.

They could have become separated, and one of them got badly injured, screaming from pain or terror or worse. Bloody hell, anything was possible on this godforsaken piece of shite—

"Hold fast, I'm coming," he cried out hoarsely, coughing from overexertion.

He had not run so fast since his days as a mere sailor. His lungs begged for respite, but he did not listen. The culmination of the sounds, a deep scream that swept through him like the blade of a knife, spurred him onward, pushing his legs harder. He felt like he was about to collapse.

This was the princess, and his little brother — their lives were at stake — Misthaven was counting on him to find them—

_Dear brother, where are you, what the hell happened to you—_

The long sticks in front of him were a thick, impenetrable screen, preventing him from proceeding. Unsheathing his sword, heedless of his bruised hands, he chopped at the offensive wall with all his might. A thrill of satisfaction coursed through him on seeing the sticks finally give way as they fell apart.

Then his poor heart nearly stopped beating on the sight that greeted him instead. He quickly averted his eyes.

"Oh, bloody hell, _no_."

"Liam?"

"Captain Jones?!"

He had to maintain good form, no matter how disgusted he was right now. "Salutations, Your Highness — I hope you are, ahem, in good health. As for you, Killian..." His voice hardened. This entire situation was an embarrassment. "Get your sorry arse over here this moment, or I will bloody do it for you!"

Watching his _little brother_ scramble from the ground, stark naked, and the princess hasten to cover her own nudity with her garments...

Liam rubbed at his burning vision, black with red stars. All this hurry, only to find them both in a different kind of danger — the danger of having another round of illicit activities. At this point, he didn't care if a league of Olympian gods came after him. He had just witnessed his flesh and blood in post-coital _harmony_ with the crown princess and that image was seared into his mind like a branded mark.

It was unthinkable, unimaginable — and yet, it had happened. The expression on Emma's face as Killian—

Liam groaned, feeling nauseous. _Curse this pernicious island and that damned fool calling herself Aphrodite._

* * *

There was nothing like feeling conflicted about being rescued.

On one hand, it was what they had hoped and wished for — the sight of a familiar face, assuring them that no, they had not been forgotten in the real world and it really wanted them back. The fact that they were truly returning home after all this time.

Well, actually two weeks. Apparently, their months of habitation were a drop in the sands of time thanks to the magical landscape of Treasure Island.

She still was struggling to accept that mess of a reality.

On the other hand, it destroyed Emma inside to watch Killian once again become the prim, proper lieutenant, shamed and silent as he heeded Liam's instructions and made himself respectable aboard the _Jewel of the Realm._ Ever since his brother had caught them in each other's arms, he had been unable to look at her, let alone speak to her. Head bowed, eyes downcast, he had marched to the waiting rowboat without another word. She too had been speechless, struck by a sudden longing not to just abandon the place that had served as her home for nearly a year of isolation. The island was pulling at her heart, pleading with her not to leave.

It was here she had discovered herself, her feelings for Killian, his own for her. It was here they had declared their love and lost their virginity to each other. It was here that they had married.

How could she simply forget that with no second thoughts?

Nonetheless, those thoughts became painful reminders. The more he ignored her, avoiding her on the ship, the more she began to doubt that all they had shared was genuine. Then, on reaching Misthaven, he only went to the castle with her because Liam said it was his personal duty to escort them to the King and Queen. Once she was in her parents' loving embrace, Killian quietly disappeared, together with his brother, from her sight.

Naturally, there were repercussions. Discreet and civil, Liam obviously did not speak of what he had seen on the island ( _her face flushed every time she recalled her shock at seeing him enter the clearing_ ), or her father would not have been so willing to promote Killian to Captain. Liam also reaped the benefits, now an admiral in Her Majesty's Royal Navy on account of "his devotion and honorable service." The ceremony was a lavish one — or so she heard. On seeing Killian's stony expression prior to the event, Emma used the pretense of a fainting spell — _so weak from lack of true sustenance on the island_ — to stay in her chambers meanwhile. Her parents were suspicious, since when did _she_ ever feel faint in her life? However, they did not press her for answers. They trusted she had good reasons for her behavior.

And there she remained, secluded, reluctant to speak to anyone, and growing bitter.

It did not help either that the kingdom viewed her absence as short, although significant. As far as everyone else was concerned, she and Captain Killian Jones had simply been stranded thanks to an unexpected storm, lost and then found due to the efforts of one Admiral Liam Jones. Who cared about two weeks?

But more importantly... Was that how Killian looked back on their adventure? Was it naught but a passing fancy in his mind, an unfortunate calamity that has been quickly rectified and put to rest?

Because for her, their marriage was no illusion under the guise of magic. Their union was real. Their love was true love. The revelation that she herself possessed magical abilities changed nothing. The island could not influence their hearts to feel something that did not exist.

Otherwise, she would not be in such torment, mourning over his clear rejection of her and their relationship. He would never tell her parents that she was wed to him, by her own will and choice.

As the days passed, she drowned further in discordant musings, hurting terribly. She kept to her room and refused to see anyone. Even when her mother came to visit, inquiring about her health, Emma brushed off her concerns.

_It is nothing, Mother. I am alright now. I am back where I belong. I just need a little time to adjust to being home again._

And I'm miserable without Killian, she thought afterwards to herself, crying inside. Not to mention that she was frightened of the prospect of innate magical powers.

However, when the Blue Fairy dropped by to pay a call on Snow, Emma had had enough of moping and sobbing over what had been and what might have been. Weeping was only as remedial as her resulting snotty nose was — it drained her body of phlegm and of building frustration and irritation. Frustrated that her _husband_ was being a cowardly lion in the face of society, and irritated that he did not want to reveal the truth.

_Nevertheless, there was some measure of healing in that process._

She took a bath, dressed in her favorite gown, and went to see her godmother about learning how to temper her magic. Once that was taken care of and she felt secure again about herself, then she would worry about what to do with Killian.

* * *

Killian sighed, fingering the brass buttons of his new coat. It was a dark azure, fine linen and golden thread as befitting a captain of the realm's navy forces.

This position was a dream he dreamed of even while he was still a lieutenant under the nefarious tyrant they had abandoned. Achieving this goal made him immeasurably jubilant and satisfied. It was a lifelong ambition, after all. Liam too rose to be an admiral, a promotion he deserved a thousand times over.

Once again, Their Majesties had rewarded the Jones brothers, not only for loyal service but out of admiration and love. Killian knew King David was like a father to Liam and Snow like the mother they never had. No matter what they had merited, he and his older brother owed the royal family a debt of gratitude for all they had done for them.

His heart stuttered in his chest, longing for the presence of a particular royal. _Emma_. Strong, beautiful Emma, who deserved a man worthy of her. Being a princess, she deserved a prince who could offer her the world.

He cradled his head in his hands. What was he, in comparison to her? She was unattainable. He did not dare to ask her about their vows, to disturb the peace and harmony of their return with enchanted delusions. No, it was better this way — that she have a fresh start and not be burdened by him. He could never give her what another, higher in station, could. He would embarrass her. She would be ashamed of him, shamed by him, and then she would learn to resent him.

Better to be without her, the most important part of his life, than ever cause her pain. Their marriage was nothing but a dream.

A wonderful dream, where he was free to gaze upon his princess day and night, whether they were clothed or bare. Free to hold her in his arms. Free to make love to her, to _love_ her...

"Seems like you're lost in thought there, Captain Killian Jones."

Startled, Killian straightened, hands in his lap. The damn new title would take some time getting used to.

Liam chuckled, taking a seat beside him on the cot. "I must say, it does have a nice ring to it ― so does mine ― but I was wondering when you would, at last, have the _Jewel_ for your own. She's a lovely vessel, but you've always had a soft spot for her, more than I."

True, it was everything he had ever wanted. But a lonely voyage on the sea was not an exciting prospect. How could he tell his brother that he had always wanted Emma more?

Killian gazed around at the captain's quarters, now his. They were spartan but suited to his tastes, adequate for living. Why then did he keep imagining their hut on the island, that ridiculous structure woven of palm leaves?

_He taught Emma how to braid and knot those leaves. He left a trail of kisses along that lovely neck and pair of shoulders as he did so, enjoying her giggles and happy smile._

That was the damn point ― that his desperation to leave that damn abode was now a restless agony. She was gone from his life for good.

Not good for him, surely. He could not escape this rending fissure in his chest, this hopeless desire. It was his previous fixation and obsession all over again, except that this time he knew what it felt like to have her. Those magnificent eyes set on him, peaks of her breasts rising and falling as his fingertips dug into her hips and he sought her mouth and their bodies united―

He shuddered. _She was gone_. And rightly so, for how could a princess want him by her side for all to see?

"Killian." A familiar arm surrounded his shoulders, accompanied by a deep sigh. "I know you. I know how hard you worked toward this and how much you wanted it. Bloody hell, you would speak of nothing else at times, saying where you would go and what you would do once you were captain." Liam's voice softened. "I am your brother, but I hope you also see me as your friend. You can talk to me about anything."

"I'm fine," he finally croaked out, waving away his concerns.

"No, you are not."

"Bloody hell, Liam. Are we to argue about my well-being?"

"Only because you're being a stubborn arse about it."

"Likewise, you git."

"Do you think I haven't noticed your pining these last weeks? Despite being in command of the ship you've loved for years, the dark circles under your eyes and your lack of appetite are telling, little brother. As well as your sudden fondness for rum." He pointed at the flask protruding from Killian's pocket. Killian hastily shoved it farther down until it was out of sight. "It wasn't the captaincy you truly wanted. All along, it was Emma."

Killian groaned, running a hand through his hair. His _short_ hair, because captains did not have queues and a haircut was in order the moment he donned the gold stripes of his new rank. It took some getting used to ― like Emma's absence, for instance― " _Younger_ brother," he gritted out, dreading the changing direction of this charming discussion. "Must we speak of this?"

"Aye, we must," Liam insisted, slapping his own thigh. "Don't forget that I saw you and her in that glade, wrapped up in each other."

A host of sordid images swept through his head, heating his cheeks. "Please, if you have any mercy, brother―"

"Mercy is not the point. The point here is that what happened was no accident. I have it on good authority that you're in love with each other, and the island helped reveal the truth of the matter to both of you blind fools."

His lips quirked upwards despite himself. "Liam, did you just call Her Highness a fool?"

The bastard had the gall to smirk back, infuriating him. "Aye, I did. You two need some sense knocked into you if you ask me ― but in any case, like it or not, the King and Queen are more perceptive than you think. If I've noticed for years how you have danced around the lady and she with you... You are only deceiving yourselves with this love game of yours. Why can't you simply own up to your feelings, hmm? You are hurting each other to no purpose."

"Since when do you approve of our relations?" Jumping to his feet, hands clenched into fists, he growled out, "Bloody damnation, I'm no good for her."

"Your position, you mean?"

"Aye, _that_ ," he hissed. "I'm of low rank. I have nothing to offer her in terms of material wealth. She would be laying the world at my feet by agreeing to marry me, not the other way around."

"Ah," Liam chuckled, staring up at him. "So it is your _pride_ that is at fault? Do correct me if I'm wrong."

" _My_ pride? What would Their Majesties say to their beloved daughter joining her future to that of a nobody?"

"You, a nobody? I think David, for one, would say you're a smashing choice ― and dear Lord, we _are_ talking about _the_ Snow White and Prince Charming here, not the most conventional of love stories ― and you _are_ my brother." He sighed, folding his hands. "Personally, I just want to see you smile again, to see you happy. True, there might be difficulties for a man wed to a future queen, but you _love_ her. You cannot fear what _might_ happen."

All air left him in a crushing defeat. "Liam, you do not understand. The kingdom―"

"―would love you, as they love their princess and their rulers. You deem yourself so worthless that you cannot see what a blessing such a union would be? Bloody hell, Killian, Princess Emma has been as miserable as you. The poor lass has cooped herself up in her room all this time, refusing to speak to anyone. And look at yourself, moping about and looking like a dead man walking. Why not do everyone a favor? The key to your happiness is right within your grasp. Go to her."

Liam still didn't get it. He didn't see how Killian would eventually be considered an embarrassment to the royal family, how his lack of experience in royal dealings would bring shame to them all, how he was damned already for deflowering Emma's honor.

Killian didn't belong in their world.

Swallowing down a surge of loathing, he adjusted his collar and his belt. His upgraded living quarters were suddenly too small, too encompassing. He needed to feel the wind on his face and smell the sea. The ocean would always be home to him and welcome him back into its embrace, offering freedom from constraints and society's demands.

He never had, and never would, deserve Emma.

"Well? What do you say, brother? Ready to take a leap of faith?" Liam cocked his head, tapping his foot on the wooden floor.

"I say...that such encouraging words change nothing. I can never, _never_ be more than I am." With a deft swing, Killian turned on his heel and marched up the stairs, leaving this aimless conversation behind.

The helm was more important than trampling over his wounded feelings again.

* * *

"You should not be here, Princess." Killian eyed her warily through the partly opened door.

Emma had left the castle in a bad mood. Now she was livid. She had sneaked out of there in the dark of night with complete disregard for her own safety, and this was all he had to say to her? That she should just leave on arrival, after he had been at sea for over three months?

Hell, no.

"We need to talk." After peering down the corridor, she pushed hard on the door and slipped inside his room. The sudden movement forced him to back into the nearest wall.

"I've been told that when a woman says that, a man is in for an unpleasant conversation." Tugging on his cravat, he made his way to the sole bed in the tiny room and sat down on it.

Emma wrinkled her nose at how cramped the small space was. Inns rarely were comfortable, even for traveling nobles or royal families. That was why caravans with tents were preferred.

Her reverie over travel accommodations ended once she realized that he was not speaking anymore.

He always had perfect posture, a soldier's stance, and his deportment was pristine. Now his hair was in complete disarray — _short hair really did suit him better —_ and with huddled shoulders and a bowed back, he was facing the dingy wall instead of her.

"It is...so good to see you again. I can't begin to describe how good. I am glad you are safe and back in our kingdom again." She fingered the clasps of her cloak. "Don't you have anything to say to me?"

The impudent man continued to ignore her presence. "What would you have me say, Your Highness?" he finally muttered, glaring at her. "Should I compliment how well you look, or should I thank you for your gracious visit to my humble quarters?" Raising a brow, he added bitterly, "Should I bow, on my knees perhaps?"

She clenched her hands into fists to stop them from shaking. "Enough. Stop pretending that you don't know me."

"Do I know you? Because the last thing I would want would be to take advantage of my future queen and sovereign. Bad form, indeed—"

"You sicken me with all this talk of 'good form'," she snapped. "You prattle on and on about manners and etiquette and doing the right thing, but you won't even greet your wife properly."

"I have no wife." He shrugged sadly. "We are not married, not in the eyes of your parents or the realm."

It maddened her that he could brush off their vows like they had never existed, while she could never forget them. "Is that all that matters to you? A ring and a ceremony?" Her voice grew louder. "We were wed on Treasure Island. We swore our lives to each other. We shared our hearts and one bed. We were joined in every possible way. Did all that mean nothing to you? Does it mean nothing now?"

His gaze burned her in turn. "You speak of something you do not understand," he gritted out, turning his back on her.

"What I don't understand is why you've avoided me for months. You have not spoken to me, you have not visited me. You even refuse to look at me. For a man who worships honor, you are not honoring our vows. Explain that to me, Captain."

"Bloody hell, Emma — please, please don't call me that. Not you." He frantically ran a hand through his hair. "No one knows that we were wed. I have not told Liam, your parents, no one. I've kept the secret."

"Since when has it been a secret?" she shouted, hands braced on her hips. If she didn't keep them out of sight, she was going to punch some common sense into him. "I never said—"

"That's right — we never did talk about that, did we?" he yelled back. "What we would do if perchance we came home? If we would reveal the truth of what happened on the island? Aye, I made a choice: I followed my conscience. I let you go, so you would have the chance to be happy. To be truly in love, not bewitched by magic and our desperate circumstances." His brogue, strong and firm, broke. "It was two weeks, love. There were no months, no years. It was all an illusion. Now you are free of me."

The agony in his voice antagonized her even more. Hearing him openly deny their love was much worse than imagining it happen.

She took a deep breath to stem budding tears. "Killian Jones, you are an ass. How dare you. How dare you question our love or my love for you." Her anger strengthened as it roared inside. "I don't want to be free of you! I loved you before the island, and you — you loved me back, I know you did. Those two weeks were nothing in comparison to how long I've loved you. I never stopped believing in us. To me, our marriage was real. Apparently, it wasn't real to you."

He was about to interrupt her, but she cut him off. "I wasn't under any spell — no one bewitched me! No one forced us to be together or have sex." She waved her hands about in frustration, half-hoping she would slap him by accident. He needed it. "We both chose every moment that passed between us. And every moment was genuine, Killian. The island magnified our feelings, but they were always there. Since we first met, they were there."

"Princess — Emma — love, don't cry—"

"Damn you." She could not hold back her sobs, any more than she could quell her desire for him. She was standing in front of the man she had chosen to be her lover and her husband, and he was rejecting her. It felt like her heart was being carved out of her chest, this wracking anguish clawing at every part of her.

"Oh, darling." He sighed, drawing her into his arms even as she pushed him away from her. "If you think that this hasn't been a struggle for me as well, you are quite wrong. It has taken a great deal of willpower — and rum — to keep me away from you. My mind cannot, though. My mind is filled with beautiful images of you, beckoning to me like a siren does a sailor at sea. I do love you, Emma, I do," he rasped, clutching at her. "I just don't know how to fit in your world, given who we are."

She sniffled. If magic was emotion, then hers was anxious to climb to the surface and spread its wings. A breath of air seemed to leave her, an onslaught of warmth falling upon her skin unlike any she had ever known. It made her smile in spite of her tears.

"What in God's name—"

Through blurred vision, she recognized the long candlesticks her mother loved to use in the castle, placing them in every dark nook and cranny. She said it was to chase out the many shadows Regina's rule had left behind.

Well, these were lit and floating in mid-air. Dozens of them, identical and straight and unmoving.

He reached out and touched one in awe. The flame didn't budge. "Impossible. Because that would mean..."

"That I have magic?" Cheek pressed against his shirt, she could count out the rhythm of his heart. "I do have it. And all this time, I didn't even know it."

"Amazing." He stroked one candle. "You're bloody brilliant, love."

"I've been practicing, but I can get better at it," she whispered, not daring to look at him.

This time, he sought out her face and stared into her eyes. "You have magic, you are brave and intelligent and gorgeous, and you are the Crown Princess—"

"Actually, Leo is the Crown Prince. Right after we returned, I asked my parents to make him the heir to the throne."

"Oh. Nonetheless, you are the Princess of Misthaven. And yet you love me, a lowly sailor who has nothing to offer you?"

Perhaps a bit of seduction was in order. "You offered me a lot back on the island. I remember every waking moment, Captain, especially on my back," she purred. "You were magnificent."

He blushed and ducked his head, but his grip on her tightened. "Ahem, that could have been the heat of the moment. We were afraid and lonely—"

"Was it, for you? Because it wasn't for me," she said fiercely. "The greatest pleasure I've ever experienced was making love to you. I wanted it then, and I want it now. You offered me yourself, and I want you, Killian. I want a life with you."

The candlelight was shining on them, illuminating them. Every contour of his face, the shine in his eyes. His lips. Trembling, she leaned upward and softly pressed a kiss to the corner of that lovely mouth. "The Blue Fairy says that the light of my magic is the brightest when my heart is filled with love."

As if in answer, the wicks flared with bolder flames.

He took her hands in his. "You do realize that now I'm a captain, there will be many long voyages. If you...choose to come with me, it would mean weeks away from your family. There would be no amenities, no servants, no feasts, no dances. Home would be the ship, for great periods of time."

"But there would be you — you and me, together." She caressed his face. "That is all I want. The rest is unimportant. I only want you."

"And I you." He kissed each of her palms in turn. "Does this mean that I have your permission to court you, Your Highness? May we try again, as two friends, with no misunderstandings or heartaches to cloud our senses?"

"Yes." She smiled. "Yes, you have my full permission, Captain Jones. Our story is only beginning, and after all — time has always been on our side."

* * *

### ONE YEAR LATER

_"And now, by the power vested in me by Misthaven and its rulers, I declare you husband and wife. Please — do kiss the bride before you combust, little brother," Liam added in a mock whisper._

_The large crowd emitted a rolling wave of chuckles and applause as Killian and Emma — the idea that she was his sister by marriage was still unnerving — sealed their nuptial vows with a passionate embrace that caused literal fireworks to explode in a clear blue sky, shining and winking at the populace below like colorful diamonds._

_If possible, the cheers grew louder. Then everyone threw their hats and caps in the air. Liam had to duck to avoid being hit by one as they fell. Others, like the dwarf named Grumpy, were not so fortunate. Only the promise of unlimited ale calmed him down after the feather in a gentleman's hunting hat almost poked his eye out._

_"Before we proceed to the wedding feast, a toast!" Gesturing for silence, King David raised his glass, saluting first Killian and then Liam. "To the brothers Jones — for bringing such happiness and goodwill to our kingdom." He cleared his throat. "Since you arrived here, you know I've always considered you as part of my family, but nothing brings me greater joy than making it official. Welcome and may God keep you, for countless years to come. Killian and Emma, you both have my and Snow's blessing for a limitless future and boundless love."_

_Even Grumpy cracked a smile when the newly married couple kissed again and their audience roared their approval. Liam crossed his arms over his chest, watching from a distance how the King and Queen and young Prince Leo first greeted their daughter and now, their son-in-law. He didn't want to intrude in such a gathering of kin, and besides, he had already offered his congratulations before the wedding. Killian knew where his brother stood. He would only get in the way._

_From what Liam could see, Emma leaned up to whisper something in Killian's ear. He nodded. Suddenly, in a bright flash of white-gold light, they both disappeared without a trace. For two people who had seen a great deal of magic firsthand, the royal parents looked shocked._

_"Did you expect any less, though, from someone with magic?"_

_Now it was his turn to be shocked. Turning, he rolled his eyes and scowled at Aphrodite, who was smirking like she had just won a fabulous prize. She was dressed in a light blue cloak this time, a hood hiding her features from everyone's view. To anyone passing by, she would appear to be an ordinary woman in attendance._

_Before she could comment on his disrespectful behavior again, he made sure to bow in obeisance. It was good form, after all — and it didn't have to be sincerely meant for him to act on that._

_Instead of looking impressed, however, she gave him a coy wink. "How quaint, that the brother of the bridegroom did the honors today. Tell me, where do you think the Princess has taken her Prince Consort?"_

_Oh well. Speaking to a goddess couldn't be any worse than dealing with Rumpelstiltskin. If he must dally with her, he must. He forced himself to at least muster a smile in return. "I have no idea, O Mighty One."_

_She tittered, "Mighty One? Well, that's a change I did not foresee, Admiral Jones."_

_Though he still felt annoyed at seeing her again, this time his answering grin came naturally. He didn't know what to make of her — one moment, a cruel siren, and the other, a hapless maid. In either case, cordiality was the best recourse. "So I'm to believe you foresaw all this?" He waved his hand at the dispersing citizens and heated discussion between the Blue Fairy and the royal family. "The fate of Misthaven just crossed the mind of the Goddess of Love?"_

_"Gods do not have minds. We channel emotion. We feel. We simply know. We do not have to pause our motions for passing thoughts." She glanced at him, dropping her voice to a whisper. "We also have Zeus' gazing pool of omniscience, if you must know, and...I might have a soft spot for this child of True Love — oh, don't smirk at me like that, you impudent man! Yes, Olympus was boring me, so I invited myself here today. I'm the Goddess of Love! I adore a good happy beginning."_

_"Not a good happy ending?" When she turned to gaze at him, he was stunned by how beautiful she truly was. Without the island's interference, Aphrodite was as radiant and fascinating as she had described herself to be._

_Or maybe he was a fool entranced by her like every other mortal. However, he did not feel the intoxicating lull of magic or hazy overcast of a spell. So what did he have to lose? She was intelligent and witty and surprising. He liked that in a woman. When was the last time he had experienced an interesting conversation with a female, let alone such an attractive one?_

_Given her lack of reply, he quietly added, "A thousand pardons. You know, you could have gone straight to the King and Queen, instead of speaking again to a rude, ungrateful fellow like me again. I'm unworthy, aye? Is that not what you think of me, great Goddess?"_

_"You're wrong on both accounts. Remember, there are no endings for us gods — only the circle of time exists forever until Cronos returns. If he ever does." Despite her pointed powers, he had every reason to believe that the spark in her eyes and the lovely grin tugging her lips upward were absolutely genuine. "As for your second question — why in heaven's name would I seek you out in the first place, Liam Jones, if I did not still find you intriguing?"_

_That took several moments to sink in. He assured himself that he was not dreaming by stepping on one foot with the other. The reality of harsh pain certified that she was still present and staring at him inquiringly._

_"Well then, O Aphrodite." He extended his arm to her. She took it, wrapping her fingers securely around the crook of his elbow. "May a humbled admiral have the great honor and pleasure of your company for the feast?"_

_She raised a dark golden brow. "You're willing to endure a 'damned fool' like myself?"_

_He blushed. His thoughts on the island were a bit harsh. "More than willing."_

_Pursing her pretty lips, she pretended to think over his proposition."Since you asked so nicely...I accept." Then those tempting lips twisted into something wicked, naughty, sultry — something that made his skin turn into pure fire and his groin tighten. Rising up on her tiptoes, she murmured right into his ear, "After we get to know each other better at the feast, I have a few ideas of how we can have some fun." Her free hand ran down his chest in a tantalizing manner. "For instance, I could show you what heaven feels like. Unless the proper admiral you are disagrees to embark on such a reckless course."_

_That actually sounded splendid. When was the last bloody time he had had some "fun" and took a few damn risks? To bloody hell with magic and caution and always being honorable about everything he did._

_He grabbed her wandering hand and pressed a kiss to the top of her knuckles, earning another alluring smirk from her. If she desired him, she would have him. It helped that he also found her attractive._

_After all, who ever said he couldn't make love with honor?_

_"To me, that sounds like the beginning of a marvelous adventure, Aphrodite. How could I say no to such a divine proposal?"_

* * *

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading, for your patience and support, and for all your feedback. I hoped you've enjoyed this story, and if you could, I would truly appreciate a final review from you.
> 
> For news about my original fiction and other updates, please visit [my writing blog](https://nataliathewriter.blogspot.com).


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